


Knocked Up

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin and Ethan are about to leave for the summer on Ethan's first international tour when Lindsay tells Justin some shocking news. Justin doesn't believe it - or does he? And if he does, what is he going to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was published under a pen name, and I forgot why. LOL! Anyway, here it is where it belongs.

_Four months ago . . ._

Brian rises to his knees so abruptly and forcibly that he almost knocks Justin on his back. Fortunately, Justin has a secure grasp on his hips so the result of Brian’s unexpected movement merely serves to drive Justin’s cock deeper inside him. It’s the result Brian clearly intended. He makes a hungry, ragged sound. If Justin had any room in his brain left for casual thoughts, he would’ve sworn that Brian was going to spend the entire time lying down. He never would’ve imagined that Brian would surrender so completely, give himself up so entirely. The whole concept of Brian with his ass in the air had, before that moment, been impossible to even imagine. Never in his wildest dreams had Justin pictured the scene now playing out before him – a scene in which, at last, he is the star. After staring at his cock disappearing into Brian’s body, Justin lifts his gaze. He has to. He’ll come if he doesn't, and he isn’t ready to come yet. He never wants this to end. Brian’s face is buried in his pillow while his arms reach forward, clutching the edge of the mattress as though he’s hanging on to the side of a lifeboat in a stormy sea. The sounds he’s making are muffled but still loud enough for Justin to hear them. Every now and then, Justin also hears a word. “Fuck.” “God.” “Deeper.” “Harder.” And most amazing of all, “Justin.”

Brian had only ever said his name during sex once before. It was the night they first made love after the bashing. Brian had whispered his name against his neck, brushing Justin’s skin with his lips so lightly that it’d made Justin shiver, igniting the hunger he’d been missing. But there’s no whispering now. Brian is shouting, demanding, slamming backward into Justin’s every thrust, the muscles in his back flexing under skin shiny with sweat. Somewhere in his lust-clogged mind, Justin realizes Brian’s going to come like this. He’s not even going to touch his dick. And he’s close. Justin can feel it in the glorious tightening around his thrusts. Now if only he can hold on until it happens. He’ll be so disappointed if he comes first, although that said, he’d probably be able to keep going. He can’t imagine ever going soft again. He’s going to be walking around for the rest of his life with a perpetual hard-on.

“I’m gonna come,” Brian says brokenly. “Don’t change your rhythm.” He’s turned his head to the side to make sure Justin hears him. His face is red, his eyes squeezed shut. Definitely a come face. Justin had become an expert in Brian’s various expressions when he comes, so he knows. His balls start to tingle and the sensation spreads to his thighs.

 _Don’t fucking come. Don’t fucking come_ , he starts chanting through clenched teeth. He tries to think of something that will turn him off, but every image vanishes with Brian’s next backward shove. He desperately wants to look down, but he knows that’ll be the end. He’s seen Brian with a dildo in his ass before, but not from this angle, and it’s no dildo that’s making Brian sound like a porn star – it’s his cock . . .

He can’t resist any longer. He looks down and three things happen simultaneously. Brian comes. Justin realizes the condom is torn. And then he comes. All at the same time. Onetwothree.

 _The Present . . ._

When Lindsay calls to invite him over, Justin feels apprehensive. Why does she need to see him just a couple hours before a party she’s going to attend? The answer is obvious. She wants to talk to him alone. But why should that trouble him? She’s been nothing but supportive of his plan to accompany Ethan on his European tour. She’d even compiled a list of art museums he has to visit. He’d known she was living vicariously through him, but that was okay. Just talking about all the cities he and Ethan would be seeing made her giddy as though it was her trip too. It was really sweet. So why the last minute weirdness?

Her voice on the phone had sounded urgent. She’d told him that he _had_ to come see her. She’d even sent a cab, which is where Justin is right now, testing the likelihood of possible scenarios. The only thing he believes he’s sure of is that Brian is behind it. What the fuck? Justin had already turned down his offer of a couple thousand dollars. Brian had been annoyed. _It’s fucking pocket change!_ he’d snapped. _Just take it. Stop being an idiot. If you want you can pay me back_. God, it was so annoying. Brian and his wallet. If only he’d opened his mouth as frequently and been as generous with his words as he was with his money. He was like a shitty father who tries to buy forgiveness from his neglected kids. Well, Brian wasn’t going to buy his forgiveness. Paying tuition was bad enough. Like the string holding a balloon preventing it from soaring, money was the thing that bound him to Brian. Of course, Brian saw it as exactly the opposite; he thought his money was enabling Justin’s pursuit of his dreams. It was yet another point in a long list on which they didn’t see eye to eye.

The cab pulls up in front of Lindsay and Mel’s house, and Justin notices the car’s not in the driveway. Ah, so Mel had been asked to leave. Great. The signs were growing increasingly ominous.

He hadn’t seen Lindsay for a few weeks, so he’s shocked by her appearance when she answers his knock. She looks like she’s lost an unhealthy amount of weight too quickly and hasn’t slept well for God knows how long. There are dark circles under her eyes that she hadn’t bothered to obscure with make-up. Nor had she brushed her hair. Justin is immediately alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asks. “Are you sick? Is Gus sick? What’s going on?”

She gives him a wan smile and steps aside so he can enter. He sits down on the couch while she goes to the kitchen to put on the inevitable kettle for tea. She hasn’t answered him. There is _definitely_ something wrong.

“Please tell me,” he calls. “You’re totally freaking me out.”

She doesn’t answer. There’s a long silence finally punctured by the shriek of the kettle. She returns to the living room with a teapot and a plate of cookies. It’s so Lindsay, he thinks. A proper WASP to her turbulent core. They sip and munch, and she keeps pouring tea as soon as his cup is empty. Minutes pass. He wants to tell her to hurry the hell up and tell him what’s going on. Tonight was Deb’s bon-voyage party, and he and Ethan haven’t finished packing yet. Finally, she takes a deep, quavering breath.

“He’s going to hate me forever,” she says dully as though she’d already cried all the tears she can shed.

“Brian,” Justin replies. It’s not a question. She merely nods.

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t say whatever it is you clearly feel you need to say. Maybe it’s not worth it.”

He knows how close Brian and Lindsay are – especially since Justin left him for Ethan. He’s not with Brian anymore and doesn’t ever want to be again, but that didn’t mean he wants Brian to be alone. Maybe it’s because part of him feels guilty. Yeah, that’s probably exactly what it is.

“He made me promise again and again that I wouldn’t tell you, but I _have_ to. I can’t let you just leave if I don’t. I couldn’t live with myself. You need to be able to make a choice.”

Justin sets down his teacup. “A choice whether to go or not?” he said. “If that’s what it is, then don’t waste your time. I’ve already decided. There’s nothing you – or Brian – could say to change my mind.”

“What if I told you he’s pregnant?” she blurts in one breath.

Justin had been about to bite into a cookie, but when he hears her words, he drops it, scattering crumbs on the rug beneath his feet. He must’ve heard incorrectly. He laughs.

“It’s not funny,” she says flatly. “If it ever was, it stopped being so a long time ago.”

“Brian is not pregnant,” Justin says calmly as though she’s an unruly child he’s trying to reason with. “I see him all the time at the diner.”

“And how many times has he jumped up from the booth and run to the bathroom?”

Justin thinks back. Yes, he remembers a couple instances, but . . . Jesus Christ. Why is he even entertaining the possibility for a second? The whole thing was ludicrous. Even if Brian _had_ been pregnant, Justin doubts he still is. He would’ve had an abortion. Justin is sure of it.

“I’m sure there are other explanations,” he says. “Occam’s razor. The more farfetched the answer, the less likely it is to be true.” He smiles to himself – he’d been waiting to use that term since he’d learned it in Junior High School.

She covers her face with her hands and then scrunches them into fists, catching some of her hair in the process. She looks crazy. In fact, she _is_ crazy. There’s no other way to explain what’s going on.

“I thought you wanted me to go with Ethan,” he says angrily. “Why are you doing this? If you’ve decided I shouldn’t go, then just tell me so we can discuss it. This is _so_ weird. So _incredibly_ fucking weird.”

Her answering laugh sounds brittle and even slightly hysterical. “I knew you’d react this way,” she says when she’d caught her breath. “And why wouldn’t you? I mean, what are the chances. The baby may not even be yours. After all, he’s never told me . . .”

She’s talking to herself.

“Why do you always believe him?” he snaps. “Why do you always take his side?”

“I’m _not_ taking his side,” she all but shouts. “If I was taking his side, I wouldn’t be telling you his secret. He’s going to hate me when he finds out.”

Justin laughs and stands up. “Don’t worry,” he says, heading for the door. “He won’t hate you because he won’t find out. What do you expect me to do? Go to his place and demand he pee on a stick? I am not getting involved in whatever this is. I’m leaving tomorrow. End of story. I’m pretty shocked he’d go to such extremes to get me to stay.”

“ _He’s_ not going to extremes,” she calls after him. “ _I_ am. I’m not saying you should stay; I’m just saying you should know everything first before you go. How can you make a choice if you don’t?”

“I’ve already made my choice,” he says. “I’m sorry you can’t support it. Are you still coming to the party tonight?”

She just stares at him silently with tears streaking her cheeks.

“Now who’s the crazy one?” she says.

He leaves without asking her to call a cab. He’d rather take the bus.


	2. Chapter 2

_A Month Ago . . ._

Brian isn’t looking at her. Lindsay is pretty sure he’ll never look at her again. She says his name, but he doesn’t respond. He just stares out the window.

She knows it’s true. Brian would never joke about something like this in a million years, let alone cry in frustration in front of her. She reaches out and places her hand on his knee, but he jerks it away.

“So will you go with me or not?” he snaps. He’s trying hard to sound flippant, she thinks, when really he sounds terrified.

It’s a ridiculous question. _Of course_ she’ll go with him. He’s silent and still for a long time after she answers him, but then he turns to look at her and gives her a little smile that clearly means “thank you.”

The obstetrician is polite but formal. She must’ve already come in contact with the Kinney temper and doesn’t want to trigger it again. Brian would not have responded well to cheerful and caring. Professional would be his choice.

Brian introduces them. Dr. Bell shakes her hand with a brisk “nice to meet you.” If Dr. Bell could be candid, Lindsay was sure she’d say how relieved she is to learn that Brian has finally told someone. She might even hug her in gratitude.

“Okay,” Dr. Bell says. “Let’s get you up here so I can examine you.” She pats the bench that’s set up with . . . oh God, stirrups! Dr. Bell wasn’t going to . . .

Brian must’ve sensed her alarm because he laughs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard that laugh – or even seen more than a wan smile. She’d known something was wrong, but obviously had never imagined this!

“Don’t worry,” he says. “She’s not going to look up my ass.”

Lindsay blushes, which makes him laugh again.

“Now wouldn’t _that_ be the kicker,” he says. “Having to crap out a baby like a really big shit.”

Lindsay blushes even deeper.

Dr. Bell is busy setting up some equipment and doesn’t seem to have been paying attention to them, but she answers Lindsay’s silent question.

“Cesarean,” she says. 

Lindsay doesn’t stop herself in time when she asks if it’s dangerous. It’s probably not a conversation Brian wants to have at the moment.

“It depends,” Dr. Bell says frankly. “Unfortunately, the farther along the pregnancy, the more difficult the delivery. I say ‘unfortunately’ because obviously we want the baby to develop inside the uterus as much as possible.”

“In the name of God and all things fucking holy,” Brian snaps. “Do not say that word! I’m not a woman. I don’t have a . . . a ‘uterus.’” He makes finger quotes in the air. “I have a . . . something. I don’t know. But it’s definitely not a fucking uterus.”

Lindsay sees Dr. Bell bite her lip to keep from smiling. “My apologies,” she says. “Call it habit. I’ve only been the obstetrician for one other man before. The vast majority of my patients are women.”

“You don’t say,” Brian grumbles, but when Dr. Bell tells him to lie back and lift his shirt, he immediately complies

 _He’s used to this_ , Lindsay thinks. _He’s been through this before, but for how long? How long has he known and not told anyone?_ She closes her eyes and swallows a throatful of tears. She _must_ not get emotional. Brian will slam the door he’d opened right in her face, maybe even crushing her metaphorical fingers in the process.

Dr. Bell smears jelly on Brian’s skin and then presses the transducer against his belly. Lindsay smiles, remembering going through the same procedure herself. She’d been so excited – and so grateful when Mel took her hand. She reaches out for Brian’s, but he catches her and flips her the bird.

“Baby looks great and is developing perfectly on schedule,” Dr. Bell says.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Lindsay asks Brian.

“Too soon,” Dr. Bell says. “The earliest we’ll be able to tell is after the sixteenth week. Brian’s only in his twelfth.”

“Will you want to know?” Lindsay asks him. She and Mel hadn’t wanted to know, but they’d eventually given in to curiosity.

“Don’t know,” he grumbles.

“It’ll most likely be a boy,” Dr. Bell says. “But in a minority of cases a man can have a girl. Brian’s got a pretty high level of estrogen in his blood . . ."

“Oh for fuck sake,” he snaps. “Do we have to discuss the details? All I want to know is how things are going. You can take a blood sample, but unless it’s weird, I don’t want to know anything about it.”

“Speaking of which,” Dr. Bell says as though Brian hadn’t flipped out. “Let’s collect some blood right now.”

She starts putting the transducer away, but Brian grasps her wrist. “Wait," he says. "I want to see."

Dr. Bell looks surprised. Obviously Brian hadn’t wanted to see the baby on prior visits. She squirts more gel on his belly and slides the transducer around until she finds the clearest image.

“There you go,” she says, turning the screen so that Brian can see it. Lindsay joins him so that she can see too. This time Brian lets her take his hand. Or maybe he just doesn’t notice when she does. His eyes are fixed on the baby.

“It looks like an avocado,” he says. “Are you sure I’m not having a vegetable?”

Dr. Bell doesn’t laugh and instead walks them through an explanation of what they’re seeing.

Lindsay squeezes Brian’s hand when she points out the heart. He squeezes back. Hard.

“Now do you believe me?” he asks. 

“I never doubted you in the first place,” she replies and stands so she can lean down and kiss his forehead.

“Congratulations, daddy,” she whispers.

She hasn’t asked who the baby’s other daddy is, and she never will. But she’s pretty sure she knows.

_The Present . . ._

She hasn’t seen Brian in days, and he’s not answering her phone calls. He won’t even open his door even though Lindsay had kicked and banged on it until the downstairs neighbors said they’d call the police if she didn’t stop. She’d known he was home. He’d told her “to fuck off.” He’d never sworn at her before, which was not a good sign. He'd never sworn at her before. Exhausted and scared, she’d leaned against the door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She would've waited there for days if she didn’t have Gus to take care of. Mel doesn't know what's going on, and she is _not_ happy that Lindsay seems to be obsessing over Brian even more than usual. Part of Lindsay wishes she could tell her; she needs someone’s help and support – not only for Brian, but for herself. He’d placed a heavy burden on her shoulders when he’d told her and no one else. She could barely sleep at nights worrying about him . . . and his baby.

She’s gotten his voicemail _again_. “Please, Brian,” she begs. “You don’t have to see me – you don’t even have to talk to me, but do _something_ so I know you’re okay. For all I know you might be dead . . .” she started to cry in fear and frustration.

Suddenly, Brian picks up the phone.

“Jesus Christ,” he says. “I hope you realize you’re even worse than Mikey.”

She’s so relieved she has to put her fist against her mouth to stop herself from sobbing with joy and/or ripping him a new one.

“Brian,” she says, and then “please.”

He sighs.

“Give me time to get it together and be here in an hour,” he says and hangs up.

Lindsay sinks onto the sofa feeling boneless and wrung-out. She’d been so terrified and living on little but tea, bagels and adrenaline. God, Justin must’ve thought she’d completely lost it. Most likely, it was one of the reasons he hadn’t believed her.

Brian is, for the most part, his usual self, which is a huge relief, but that said he doesn’t look well – and most disturbing of all, his perfect suits are in a rumpled pile in the middle of the living room as though he's building an Armani bonfire. He sees her staring.

“They don’t fucking fit,” he says. “And by the time they will again, they’ll be out of fashion.”

Lindsay starts laughing. She sounds just as insane as she’d sounded with Justin just hours before. Brian glares at her.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

She struggles to compose herself and eventually succeeds.

“I know. Of course it's not,” she says gently and approaches him slowly as though he’s an untamed stallion that's likely to buck and kick and then run away. “But it’s okay. You’ll buy new suits. This isn’t the end of the world.”

He lets her pull him into her arms. “Feels like it,” he mumbles against her hair. “Jesus, fuck, I can’t do this.”

“You can,” she says fiercely, pulling away from him so she can cup his face between her hands and look in his eyes. “If you want to that is. It’s not too late . . .”

“No,” he snaps backing away and literally covering his ears. “Don’t even talk about it – if we have that conversation . . . Fuck. I told this damn baby I’d go through with this. A deal’s a deal.” He laughs, sounding just as crazy as she had with Justin just hours earlier. Heck, even more so.

“You can’t live like this for the next five months,” she says. “At least until you get so big that you can’t hide it anymore, and that might be a long way off. Sometimes a mother doesn’t start to show until . . .”

Brian flops down on his couch and covers his face with his hands. “I’m _not_ a woman,” he mutters. He sounds weary as though he’d been trying to convince himself of that fact nonstop for weeks.

She sits down beside him and places her hand on his back. “Of course not,” she says.

“I still have a dick,” he says. “I’ll prove it if you need convincing.”

She’s not sure if he’s trying to lighten the mood, so she waits to hear his jaded-sounding laugh before she joins him.

And then she completely and utterly screws everything up . . .

“You need to tell Justin,” she says softly, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. “You can’t go through this alone. You _know_ he’d do anything. He’d take care of you . . .”

Brian stands abruptly and glares down at her, looking truly angry. “I don’t need anyone to ‘take care of me,’” he says using his finger quotes in emphasis. “Especially not that little shit.” He drops back onto the sofa with a wince that she can’t tell is pain or regret for talking about Justin that way in front of her. He’s been doggedly supportive of Justin’s relationship with Ethan to the amazement of everyone.

“Are you okay?” she asks when his hand drifts to his belly.

“I’m fine,” he says, but the anger has been replaced with the tired resignation he’d been using before. “Just getting my internal organs squashed. No big deal.” He laughs but without any genuine amusement behind it.

He’s definitely _not_ okay, she thinks. He’s lonely and scared and angry and probably a million other things. Not to mention he’d had his heart broken. Any healing he might’ve being doing must’ve completely dissolved when he got the news that he's pregnant.

“Just hear me out,” she says. “Justin still loves you. He still cares about you. When he finds out, he won’t leave your side.”

“Great,” Brian mutters. “Just what I need. What makes you think I want to see his face every day? I don’t. Why do you think I’ve stopped going to the diner? All I can see is that fucking, cheap-ass ring . . . all I can do is picture him and what’s-his-face going at it like horny rabbits. The best thing is that I stay the hell away from him and vice versa. I’m supposed to avoid stress, right? Imagine how fucking stressful it’ll be to be babysat like a fucking invalid and have him spending the nights with . . . with his fucking boyfriend. Jesus, I’m a fucking hormonal wreck as it is. I don’t need his fucking sympathy or his help. If I have to enlist someone in addition to you, I’ll enlist Emmett. But not Justin. Hell, I couldn’t be more grateful that he’s taking off on his grand adventure. Get him out of my fucking hair so I can go to the fucking diner again. I’m constantly craving French fries . . . not to mention a little fresh fucking air!”

She sighs but knows better than to continue to push the point. She doesn’t want him to shut her out.

“Why not Michael?” she asks. “You know he’d do anything for you.”

He just gives her a look like she’s gone certifiably insane.

“ _Mikey?_ ” He laughs his first genuine laugh. “I’d shoot him and end up in jail and the kid’ll be delivered by some gangbanger. God, I’d take Justin over Mikey. Christ.” He shudders. “The fucking horror.”

They sit in silence for a while. They’ve run out of topics, but it’s clear Brian doesn’t want her to leave, even though he’d die before he asked her to stay.

“Are you going to go to the party?” she asks.

“Justin and Ian’s big Bon Voyage? Are you fucking kidding me?”

She shrugs and gives him a little, apologetic look. “Sorry. Stupidest question ever.”

But suddenly his expression changes, and slowly a Brian Kinney smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Or maybe, I will go,” he says. “It’s the worst, most dickish thing I could possibly do, and damn do I feel like being a dick. It’s been a long time. I’m in withdrawal.”

She winces. What fresh new heck has she just set in motion?


	3. Chapter 3

_A Month Ago . . ._

It’s a busy day at the diner, plus it’s raining and people are in a shitty fucking mood. Deb usually doesn’t lose her temper at customers, but Goddamn it, that guy with enough piercings he probably couldn’t make it through airport security had been a complete fucking asshole, and she’d felt it was her civic fucking duty to tell him and everyone else in earshot about it. So she isn’t particularly thrilled when Mr. I Stayed Out All Night Fucking And Sucking And Getting Soused doesn’t make it on time to the fucking toilet and throws up on the bathroom floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Deb says getting out the Clorox bleach. “And on a fucking Tuesday night?”

Brian hic-cups and looks like he might be sick again. His face is pale and he’s sweating. It almost makes Deb feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

“I told you I’d clean it up,” he snaps. “Can you just give me the damn mop and save the lecture? I’m not in the mood.”

“Clearly,” Deb grumbles. “Now you listen to me, Brian Kinney . . .”

“Oh God,” he says, sounding exasperated. “Really? You’re really going to do this to me after I just puked my fucking guts out? C’mon, Deb. Even you aren’t that sadistic.”

He’s trying to make her laugh – he usually can – but not this time. He needs a good motherly talking to and a slap upside the head for good measure.

“Don’t you ‘c’mon Deb’ me,” she says, shoving the mop into his hands. “This isn’t the first time you tossed your cookies in my fucking bathroom.” Her voice softens. Yes, she’s pissed as Hell at him, but he’s one of hers. “You gotta let go, kiddo. You’re gonna drink yourself to death. I’m worried about you, and you know how much I fucking hate being worried. Sunshine’s moved on. You need to too, and drinking and drugging and who-knows-what-the-hell-else isn’t the answer. Christ, I’ve never seen you hung over like this before – and practically every fucking time I see you too! You need to pull it together. And imagine how Sunshine feels seeing you such a fucking mess and thinking it’s his fault. It’s your fucking fault he left you in the first place. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Now, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this to you of all people, but you need to pull your head out of your ass and be a man.”

Her voice had risen again, but she’s struck dumb when Brian turns his head to the side in a futile effort to hide the fact his eyes are getting all shiny.

“Brian, honey,” she says gently, placing her hand on his arm. He shakes it off angrily.

“Just give me the damn mop,” he says.

She hands it to him and watches as he swishes it in the bucket and starts mopping.

“You know,” she says to his back. “You can always talk to me.”

“And get a tongue lashing? No thanks. Besides, you’ve got divided loyalties.”

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”

Brian doesn’t answer. When he finishes cleaning up, he pours the water down the toilet.

“Try not to puke on the fucking floor next time,” she says. “And splash some cold water on your face before you go back out there. Ethan’s here to walk Justin home.”

Brian nods and turns on the tap. She knows he’s thankful for the heads-up so he can pull himself together. He braces his hands on the sides of the sink and stares down at the drain.

“He still cares about you,” she says. “He doesn’t want to see you hurting.”

“I’m not hurting,” Brian replies. “I just have the fucking stomach flu.”

Goddamn it! She tries to be helpful and he feeds her a line of shit. Stomach flu, yeah right. Christ, he makes her fucking crazy sometimes. She storms out of the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

Shaking her head, she goes back to the counter. Justin’s still got about half an hour before his shift ends. Ethan’s sitting at the counter stuffing a hamburger in his mouth like he’d been starving for days.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she says. “Don’t you kids ever eat?”

“Only mac and cheese, Deb,” Justin says. “And the occasional can of SpaghettiOs. It’s an artist’s rite of passage.”

“And cereal,” Ethan adds although it’s hard to understand him with his mouth full. “Don’t forget the cereal.”

“Christ,” Deb says, filling a bag with muffins and bagels left over from the morning. “At least you get some vegetables here,” she says to Justin. “Hell, you two should be going to a soup kitchen!”

“Not to mention the Salvation Army,” Brian drawls. He’s emerged from the bathroom looking better, but it’s obvious he’d pinched his cheeks to give them some color. “You two look like you live in a cardboard box on a garbage heap.” He sniffs. “Kind of smell like it too.”

Deb glares at him. “Don’t be an asshole,” she says. “These two are students – they don’t have money coming out their wazoos like some people.”

Brian opens his mouth, but before he can say whatever assholey thing he planned to say, Justin puts his hand on her arm.

“Deb,” he says. “Just let it go. It’s not like Brian isn’t generous with his money.”

She can’t argue, but she grumbles anyway. “If only he was as generous with his heart,” she whispers in his ear. He smiles sadly.

Ethan is done with his hamburger and seems at a loss as to what to do with himself. Deb takes pity on him. If Brian won’t leave, then she’ll let Justin go early.

“You can go, you two,” she says. “Sunshine here has worked his cute little buns off all afternoon. It’s been a fucking zoo in here.”

Ethan gets up from the counter and picks up his violin case. “C’mon, Just,” he says. Deb catches him glaring at Brian. She swipes the dish towel out of Justin’s hands.

“Shoo!” she says, snapping the towel at his bum. He graces her with one of his sunshiny grins.

“Thanks, Deb. See you tomorrow.”

“Toodaloo,” Brian says with mocking cheerfulness and a little wave. “Happy trails.”

Deb is proud when Justin doesn’t take the bait. He’s turning into a truly fine young man, she thinks. Being away from Brian’s influence is good for him. He takes Ethan’s hand and heads for the door. She smiles after them. She’s only reminded Brian’s still there when she hears a plate crash on the floor. She turns around.

“Jesus Christ! First you barf all over my bathroom and now you’re breaking my fine fucking china . . .”

She stops mid-sentence when she – along with everyone else in the diner – realizes that the smashed plate hadn’t been an accident.

She stares at Brian. He doesn’t look okay. He doesn’t even look like Brian. He looks like a man at the very end of his fucking rope. When he storms out the door, Deb realizes she’d been holding her breath.

What the hell was going on? 

_The Present . . ._

Should she or shouldn’t she? Shit. If she doesn’t invite Brian to the Bon Voyage party she’s throwing for Justin and Ethan, she’s a bitch, and if she does invite him, she’s still a bitch. What’s that phrase? Oh yeah, catch fucking 22.

She hasn’t seen much of Brian recently, and Michael is getting frantic. Christ, she hates it when Brian goes AWOL and upsets her son. Michael told her that Brian isn’t answering the door or the phone or even his fucking emails. He isn’t even working. Probably off at a White Party somewhere.

She sighs. Poor kid. He’d really taken Sunshine’s leaving him hard. She feels sorry for him, but she’s also fucking pissed. If he loved Sunshine so Goddamn much (and Deb knows he did), then why the fuck couldn’t he have said so? How hard is it to say three fucking words? Does he think maintaining his fucking I-Don’t-Give-A-Shit act is worth losing the man he loves and who loved him back? Jesus knows when Brian will ever find someone else who’ll put up with his shit – if he ever does.

Shit. She’s getting upset about all of this crap again. She’d told herself she’d forget about it, or at the very least ignore it, but it’s hard to ignore the absence of the biggest fucking personality in the Liberty Ave district. Hell, maybe even in all of fucking Pittsburgh! She misses Brian and not just for Michael’s sake. She misses his snarky attitude and the way he kisses her cheek. And she misses his beautiful face. Shit, everyone misses his beautiful face.

Alright, that settles it, she thinks. I’m going to invite him. What’s the harm? He won’t show up anyway, but this way he’ll know he still matters. That there are people who still love him and want him around. Even Sunshine. And even if he’s turning into a drunk like his fucking father. 

_Four Months Ago . . ._

Brian’s not going to ask. He’ll never know exactly what happened at the Sap’s party. A part of him wants to know. He’d love an excuse to punch that fucker in the face. But most of him would rather remain ignorant. He doesn’t want the images in his head. He’d never be able to get rid of them. Whatever happened, Justin had clearly been able to take care of himself. He wasn’t just a tough little shit; he was a proud little shit. That’s why he’d repeatedly turned down Brian’s offer to pay his tuition much to Brian’s increasing irritation.

But now here Justin is finally accepting the fact that pride, though crucial to survival, can also bite you on the ass if it stops you from being smart. If it blinds you to what’s good for you. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s an important one.

They’re in bed. If he wants to be honest, Brian would admit that he might be too tired to fuck. He’d been up all night and come down hard from a serious buzz – in a jail cell nonetheless. Justin isn’t the only stubborn twat in his life. Mikey bore the annoying gene as well. It’s their mothers’ fault he thinks and then yawns.

But this is an important moment. Justin just did something he hadn’t wanted to do. There needs to be closure – God, how Brian hates that word, but it’s true. He rolls onto his back, and Justin climbs on top of him, taking off his sweats before he settles between Brian’s legs. Brian smiles up at him in thanks for taking the yawn as a hint that he’d rather be ridden on his back. He reaches for a condom . . .

. . . Justin takes it away from him. 

Now there’s the possibility that Justin wants to put it on him. He likes doing that. But Justin isn’t moving. He’s just holding the condom, looking meaningfully into Brian’s eyes.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Justin wants to top him.

Brian thought he’d made the rules clear. Justin could play with his ass, but he was not going to fuck it. No point in arguing; Brian wasn’t going to change his mind. _Deal with it_ , he’d said. Justin had clearly been disappointed and even a little bit annoyed. Too bad.

But here they are, holding each other’s gaze. Justin’s eyes don’t look like he’s challenging Brian to say no. They just look frank as though the decision has already been made. Brian sees himself in that look. That sense of calm determination.

Justin nudges him, trying to roll him onto his front, and Brian resists, catching Justin’s eyes again. Justin leans down and kisses him. _It’s okay, his kiss says. This is a one-time thing. You can trust me. Please, Brian_. He nudges Brian again.

 _I hope you know what this means_ , Brian says with his own gaze. _This is between us and us alone. I’m letting you do this. You’re not taking; I’m giving_.

When Justin nudges him again, he doesn’t resist.

Justin spreads his legs wider and mounts him, finding his entrance with practiced ease. Brian closes his eyes and smiles. He’s taught the boy well. When Justin pushes in, he takes a deep breath, savoring the sensation of being penetrated. Enjoying it. He wasn’t a top because he hated to bottom. Far from it. He loved having things in his ass. He was a top because being fucked scared the hell out of him. It brought too much to the surface. He worried he’d lose control, reveal too much, which, after he came, he’d deeply regret having revealed.

Would he regret what’s happening now? Maybe not tonight nor even tomorrow, but someday? Someday down the road.

He’s grateful when he can stop thinking. Justin is fucking him well, but it’s not enough. If Brian is going to do this, then he’s going to do it right. He rises to his knees on Justin’s next thrust, eliciting a yelp of surprise. But Justin hangs on. Brian turns his head so his face is buried in his pillow. The fact that it feels so amazing is not the extraordinary thing – Brian had anticipated that – what’s amazing is how _right_ everything feels. How necessary. It feels as though the world had been upside down until this moment, and now it was right side up again. He feels weirdly at home. It’s a terrifying feeling, and his instinct is to resist, but he doesn’t. He just goes along with it, letting himself be fucked. Justin leans forward to kiss his shoulders, but it changes the angle, and Brian snarls, making Justin laugh breathlessly. This isn’t about love – it’s deeper than that. More primal. More all-consuming. Or maybe it is love? He feels like he might die if Justin doesn’t go harder, deeper, so he tells him to. Justin hears him and complies.

He’s come from penetration alone before. Many times, but never with a trick. It’s something he did only to himself. He would’ve doubted that he even could. But the sensations he’s feeling now are the beginning of an orgasm. He wants to come like this, so he makes sure his hands are occupied by clutching the mattress. Justin’s birthday isn’t that far away. It’ll be a present – the knowledge that he’d made Brian come with his cock alone.

Prostate orgasms are different from the regular kind. They happen deeper inside your body; they trigger the contraction of more muscles. Your whole belly clenches, all those muscles you’ve done a billion sit-ups to harden and strengthen flex and release, flex and release. And the best thing? The best thing is that the orgasm builds forever, becoming inevitable sooner because the pressure comes and goes with each thrust, but not cresting yet, just hovering, waiting. It’s not like a hand on your dick, pumping away. It’s all the more precious for being so rare, so hard-won.

Brian holds on as long as he can. He doesn’t want to come too soon. Prostate orgasms make everything down there sensitive after they end and not in a good way. As soon as the shudders fade, you want whatever it is out of your ass. Of course, he wouldn’t force Justin to stop. Bad etiquette. But it can ruin the overall experience. How close is he? Judging from the way he’s losing control of his pace, he’s not far away. But he mustn’t lose his rhythm. It’ll jeopardize Brian’s growing orgasm – an event he’d currently sell his soul to prevent.

“I’m gonna come,” he groans. “Don’t change your rhythm.”

Immediately, Justin regains control, and starts fucking him with the predictability of a metronome. Brian feels his eyes roll back. His mouth is open. His pillowcase is damp with spit and sweat. He’s pretty sure he looks like his tricks do when he makes them come for the second or third time. He turns his head to the side so he can breathe. The first rippling contraction hits. Then the next. They’re far enough spaced that he’s not going to shoot right away. His full orgasm is still several contractions off. He gives into the sensation entirely, surrenders to the involuntary processes of his body at the peak of arousal. It’s like being afloat on an ocean’s swelling waves. God, it’s been a long time since he’s come like this! Between each contraction he feels himself open up, giving Justin the greatest depth possible. All he can hear is his ragged breathing and the wet, squelchy sounds of fucking, of getting fucked . . .

And then the waves break and slam him against the shore. His whole entire body bucks. It’s perfect . . . _beyond_ perfect. It’s the most perfect fucking orgasm he’s ever had. The sounds he’s making are undignified. He doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t give a shit about anything except coming his brains out. It lasts a long time, longer than usual, and when it’s over, he’s shuddering violently, wringing every last contraction from his body until he feels boneless and exhausted.

He’s barely conscious when he hears Justin say, “Uhm, Brian? We have a problem.”

_The Present . . ._

Because God is a dick, Brian had found out he was pregnant on the same day he’d discovered a badly made CD of violin music in his CD player. He’d picked up the box and looked at it. The musician was a kid, probably about Justin’s age. Brian had known he was pregnant before the results were made official. He’d also known with the same level of conviction that Justin was going to leave him.

He’d been right.

After Lindsay leaves, he sits down on the couch. God, he would _kill_ for a glass of Beam and a cigarette, but his body can tolerate neither. Just thinking about drinking or smoking makes him feel nauseous. The smoking isn’t a big deal, but the drinking is. Everyone looks at him funny, including the bartender, when he asks for seltzer water at Woody’s and Babylon. No one has said anything . . . yet. But Brian is sure people are talking about it. His drinking is almost as renown as his fucking. Which he hasn’t been doing either. At least not since he’d started to show.

He tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling. Justin’s leaving was bad but even worse had been the cheating, the being lied to and knowing it. And while all of that shit had been going on, he’d been getting more and more uncomfortable. He’d started feeling nauseous all the time. He’d been exhausted. His insides had started to feel like they were getting moved around and squashed, which had resulted in a whole bunch of irritating stuff like bloating and having to piss all the time. And worse of all, he’d started getting emotional over every little fucking thing. It’d been a _really_ shitty time to be cheated on.

Looking back now, he’s amazed he hadn’t told Justin. The whole Ethan thing would’ve ended overnight. Brian knew Justin, and he knew that Justin still cared about him even if he was no longer in love with him. And he knew that Justin would feel duty-bound to stay. Brian hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted to be a fucking charity case. He had a baby inside him, not a deadly tumor. As rare as male pregnancies are, they’re still a natural process. He wasn’t fucking dying. In less than seven months, he’d be back to his old self and the baby would be snuggled up in a crib in some happy hetero home somewhere.

It’d been hard though. Especially the night, he’d asked Justin to stay – well, not in words, but he’d thought lifting the duvet was a pretty obvious gesture. Justin had paused, but he’d eventually joined Brian in bed. And then he’d turned his back. He’d accepted the offer, but he didn’t like it. At the very least he’d been torn. By then Brian and Ethan had probably been neck-and-neck. Imagine if Brian had put his arm around Justin and whispered in his ear that he was going to be a father! Justin’s head would’ve popped off with happiness. But he hadn’t told Justin. He’d wanted Justin to want to be with _him_ , not a baby. Not even their baby. Justin was going to have to choose _him_ , but he hadn’t and now here Brian is staring up at the ceiling and thinking up the perfect plan to wreck Sunshine and Ian’s big, happy, going-away party. Hell, he’s a hormonal wreck. If people knew, they’d never blame him for being such an incredible dick.

He smiles. The plan is all the more dickish for being true. He’s going to show up “pregnant.” All he needs is the right sized pillow cushion, three belts to strap it to his middle, and a shirt large enough to cover the bulge but not obscure it. When he’s put it all together, he pulls on a leather jacket and stands in front of the mirror admiring himself and trying hard not to think about the fact he really is going to be that big someday. And bigger! The cushion he’d used made him look only about mid-term – it had to be believable. Justin had fucked him in February. He couldn’t have a giant, grotesque gut even though that would’ve made the whole thing even more hilarious. But he isn’t going for hilarious, he’s going for believable, so he’s keeping it (relatively) subtle. He’s going for a big old “fuck you.” 

It was going to be great even if he and Lindsay are the only ones who’ll actually get the joke. Poor Justin will just be embarrassed and confused, and he and Ian will probably make a break for it as soon as possible, leaving behind their share of the food, with which Brian planned to happily stuff his face like any pregnant person in his condition would do.

Bon voyage, Sunshine. Bon fucking voyage.


	4. Chapter 4

_Two Months Ago . . ._

Brian had been . . . God, Justin had no words. What had he been thinking when he pissed – literally pissed! – on Justin and Michael’s hard work? And why had he and Michael let him off the hook so easily? Maybe it’d been because Brian’s actions were just too damn weird to wrap their heads around. Who _does_ that? Was Brian losing his mind? And what was with the seltzer water lately? At least it hadn’t been stinky beer piss. That’d been at least one little tiny bit of a silver lining. Maybe, Justin thinks, maybe Brian wouldn’t have done it if he’d been drunk . . . but wait a minute! It would make the whole thing even weirder if he’d been stone cold sober. What the _fuck?_

Christ. His life is a mess. He’s so torn between Brian and Ethan that he’s pretty sure his body is going to rip in half and his guts are going to spill out onto the floor. He’d been leaning toward Ethan, but then Brian had lifted the damn duvet. It’d been as clear a plea as Brian was ever going to make, which, truth be told, had actually settled things. If Brian can’t ask him with words . . . if he can’t even say “I’d like you to stick around” or something, he’s _never_ going to tell Justin that he loves him. Ethan will. Hell, Ethan already had. Brian is not only an asshole, he’s a coward as well . . .

. . . but, Christ, Justin still loves him – or, at the very least still wants him. Leaving him will suck. But maybe tonight. Maybe tonight he’ll be able to make his decision and choose Brian. Brian’s throwing a party for the release of _Rage_. God only knows how much money, time and effort he’s put into it. Maybe tonight will make it clear beyond a doubt how Brian feels about him. Does Brian love him? Or is Brian incapable of love in general? Justin needs to know. The rest of his life might hinge on the answer.

The answer is made crystal clear when Justin goes to the backroom looking for Brian and finds him fucking “Rage” – in other words Brian is fucking himself. Justin would’ve laughed at the whole thing except it isn’t funny. Not even a little bit. Here Brian is, throwing a party for him, and what does he do at the first opportunity? He heads for the backroom. Justin’s so fucking sick of this shit. In fact, he’s so fucking sick of Brian. That’s it. His mind’s made up.

Or is it?

There’s been something about Brian recently. Something Justin can’t put his finger on or even begin to describe. He seems . . . antsy? Is that the word he’s looking for? He seems to have trouble sitting still, and the toilet seems to have become his new best friend. And even more weird is that his stomach seems to have joined his cock in his desire to have it touched. In the shower, he’ll move Justin’s hand from his hardening dick to his belly and press Justin’s hand against it, holding it there for a long time. And it’s not just in the shower, it’s in bed too. It’s strange and oddly unsettling. It almost feels like Brian is trying to tell him something. But what? Is it like the lifted duvet? Is Brian asking him to stay? And if he is, why with his belly? It’d make a lot more sense if it was his heart.

Justin shakes his head, returning to the party and the knowledge that despite knowing Justin is on the verge of leaving him, Brian is still being Brian. When they get home Justin is going to tell him that it’s over and he’s leaving. He takes a deep breath. It’s going to be the shittiest conversation he’s ever had . . .

. . . and then Justin sees him. Ethan. He’s come all this way to a place Justin knows he hates just for him. Just to make it clear how deeply in love he is. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Justin is kissing him. He can feel people watching him. He can even feel Michael and Emmett and Ted and Deb watching him. And then he feels something else. He feels Brian’s gaze. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck _fuck_. In an instant, Justin realizes there’s not going to be a conversation. Brian will never speak to him again. He turns, and Brian lifts “Rage’s” mask. His expression is . . . fuck. His expression can only be described as open, stunned and worst of all, resigned as though Brian knew all along that Justin would go. Justin looks at him sadly, and then watches as Brian lowers his hand and splays his fingers on his belly. Brian doesn’t seem to realize what he’s doing, and for an instant Justin has the bone-deep sense that he’s made a _terrible_ mistake, that he’s upset the natural order of things. But the damage was done. There’s no going back. He’d made a choice right there in front of everyone. When the shock fades, Brian is going to be _pissed_. Surprise will twist into anger. 

He feels Ethan take his hand and start heading for the door. He’ll turn and follow him in a moment, but he’s still looking at Brian, searching for the inevitable cruel, sneering smile that will kill the unease in his heart. But it doesn’t come. Like a lightning bolt, Justin is struck by the realization that he’s broken Brian’s heart . . . no, shattered it would be the better description. He wants to say “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” But the crowd is watching and Ethan is pulling . . .

. . . and the next thing he knows he’s outside, and Ethan is holding him close and whispering “I love you. I love you so much” in his ear. Words that Justin knows he’d _never_ hear Brian say.

_The Present . . ._

Justin doesn’t answer Ethan when he asks how his visit with Lindsay went. After all, what is he going to say? _Oh, fine. We had tea and cookies and she told me Brian’s pregnant. That’s all. Nothing special_. He laughs and shakes his head. Ethan looks at him with a frown.

“Are you done packing?” Justin asks in an attempt to distract him.

“Just finished,” Ethan replies. “And I called the airline. Everything’s on time.”

“Great,” Justin says, but the enthusiasm he’d been feeling for weeks has faded. Why? Lindsay’s clearly . . . unwell. Maybe there’s something wrong with Brian, a tenacious stomach bug or something, that’s convinced her that he’s pregnant of all things! God, Brian would _die_ if he knew. And he’d be pissed. After all, Justin had the sense that Brian _wanted_ him to go away. Otherwise why had he offered to give him and Ethan money? He’d be angry if he knew Lindsay is trying to get in the way.

Justin sits down on the bed and stares into the middle distance. He doesn’t even react when Wolfie jumps up into his lap. If Brian really _is_ sick, then he’s been sick for a long time. He’d clearly been nauseous while Justin was still living with him, and Justin had heard him vomiting on a few occasions. He feels a sense of unease start building in his chest. What if Brian has some sort of cancer or something? Like stomach cancer. What if he’s dying? There’s no way Justin can leave if that’s what’s going on.

But why not just say that? Why the whole pregnancy thing?

He flops back on the bed, causing Wolfie to dig in his claws. But even that doesn’t snap Justin out of the weird mood he’s slipped into. He closes his eyes and thinks as hard as he can about all the times he’s seen Brian since . . . since he’d fucked him. Wait! Fuck! Did Brian contract HIV? Justin sits bolt upright.

“Oh my God,” he says. “Oh my god, that’s it!”

Ethan had been busy going through the fridge and throwing out perishables, and Justin’s sudden outburst made him jump and drop a huge container of yogurt on the floor.

“What the hell?” he says. “You just scared the shit out of me. What’s going on, Just? You’re acting really weird.”

But Justin doesn’t hear him. He’s already dialing Brian’s number. But then it hits him. Brian couldn’t have gotten HIV from him. Both of them had been recently tested and given clean bills of health. There’s no way Justin could’ve infected him. He hangs up and breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“You’re not changing your mind are you?” Ethan asks in a little fearful voice.

Justin shakes his head to clear The Crazy from his mind. “Of course not,” he says. “You know I’m looking forward to this as much as you are.”

Ethan smiles. “Last minute jitters,” he says. “How about a glass of wine to relax? God knows you probably drank an ocean of tea at Lindsay’s place. The caffeine’s probably getting to you. Just don’t drink too much. Remember we have the Bon Voyage party tonight.”

Justin gratefully accepts the glass of wine even though it’s even cheaper and thus more disgusting than usual. They’d been saving as much as they could for the trip. The wine does help a bit. His mind starts to clear, but along with the clarity comes a string of disturbing thoughts.

What _if_ Brian really is pregnant? What if Lindsay isn’t crazy after all? Little details start colliding in Justin’s mind. The nausea. The agitation. The whole pissing on the artwork thing. Was that the result of some kind of hormonal meltdown? It certainly would explain what had, until then, been inexplicable. What about the seltzer water . . .

. . . and what about the obsession with his belly?

The phone’s ring snaps him out of his thoughts. It’s Deb telling him that everyone was there, and he and Ethan should head over.

“I’m afraid Michael might not make it,” Deb says regretfully. “You know how he is about seeing Ethan.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“Alright, you two get your tushies over here . . .”

“Hey, Deb,” he says before she can hang-up. “Did you invite Brian?”

She snorts. “I did, but that doesn’t mean he’ll show up. I’ll be shocked if he does. Unless he’s in a party-crashing mood. But I doubt it. No one’s seen him recently. My bet is that he’s off at a White Party somewhere.”

“Right,” Justin says. “Should’ve thought of that.”

He hangs-up feeling angry. _Of course_ Brian’s off fucking somewhere.

“Ready to go?” Ethan asks. “I don’t want all the food to be gone before we get there.”

Justin laughs. When Ethan wasn’t thinking about his music he was thinking of food. He gets dressed, and Ethan fills Wolfie’s food bowl. They’re halfway down the stairs when Justin is struck by an idea. He’s going to stop by the loft on the way home. If Brian’s not there, he’s going to assume he’s off fucking somewhere. If he is there, Justin is just going to ask him point-blank whether he’s okay and swear he won’t leave until Brian answers him.

Okay, that’s settled. Justin feels a huge weight lift from his shoulders. When they get out on the sidewalk, he takes Ethan’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Ethan squeezes back and smiles at him.

“I’m so excited about the trip,” he says. Justin laughs. Ethan’s been saying the same thing for weeks. “And I’m _so_ happy you’ll be with me,” he adds. He raises Justin’s hand to his lips and kisses it. But Justin’s mind is already floating off again, imagining what his confrontation with Brian will be like. That is if there was going to be any confrontation at all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Three Weeks Ago . . ._

Brian is acting strangely, and Michael doesn’t like it. Not one little bit. Brian has always been as predictable as . . . as, well, Michael can’t think of a good analogy. He’s just predictable, okay? He gets up at the same time every morning no matter what he’d been up to the night before; eats the same breakfast (Raisin Bran and a protein bar); gets the same Starbucks coffee (venti latte, triple shot, skim milk) and parks in the same parking spot. The only thing that changes is his suit, but even his suits are predictable too. Armani, Prada, Versace. If he’s not taking a client to lunch, he goes to the farm-fresh grocery store two blocks from his office building. And then after work, it’s the gym, and after the gym, it’s the diner and then back to the loft to change into his club clothes. Eight O’clock finds him monopolizing the pool table at Woody’s, and by eleven, he’s leaning against the bar at Babylon, poppered-up, sipping a glass of Jim Beam, and scanning the dance floor for his first trick of the night. By the time Babylon closes, he’s been to the backroom at least three times. It’s truly impressive. Michael’s always been in awe of Brian’s ability to hook up with any guy he wants. Literally _any_ guy. He gets that predatory look in his eyes and then the next thing you know he’s getting a blow job from the hottest man there that night. Then, sated and pleased with himself, it’s back to the diner for some French fries and banter with Michael’s mom.

The only variation in Brian’s routine is when he goes to the baths, but that’s almost always on the weekend. Oh, and sometimes he drinks vodka instead of whiskey, but only rarely and when he does everyone always comments on it.

But lately . . . lately Brian’s behavior is growing increasingly weird. Michael calls him as he always does when Brian first gets to work . . . but sometimes he’s not at work at all. He’s still at home and groggy with sleep. And he can’t tolerate espresso anymore. He says it gives him the jitters and snaps at Michael when Michael remarks that it’s never done that before so why now. Even weirder, he’s getting in the habit of wearing his shirts untucked, and he always has a leather jacket on even though it’s spring and even when he’s inside. He’s been looking kind of . . . Emmett says “unkempt.” Michael agrees that’s the best description. Emmett’s worried he’s turning straight, but Michael’s pretty sure that’s not it.

At the diner Brian’s either eating like a pig or eating nothing at all. And he’s up and down, up and down going to the bathroom all the time even though he hates the diner’s cramped bathroom with its sink that’s cold water only. Worse than that, he seems to be getting more and more fixated on Justin. Michael had thought Brian would’ve gotten over Justin by now, but it’s clear that he hasn’t. God forbid, though, if Michael tries to get him to talk about it! Brian bites his head off and spits down his neck for good measure. And when Ethan’s there, Brian looks like he’s going to lose it. Even Ted and Emmett have noticed. It’s become a source of conversation amongst the three of them. It makes Michael hate Ethan more than he already does, and it pisses him off that Justin lets him hang out at the diner. It’s all Michael can do not to say something when they get together to work on _Rage_.

Brian is also weird at the gym. He used to push himself to the limit, but now he’s cutting back on his sit-ups and anything that requires bending and lifting. Michael had asked him if he’d hurt his back or something, and Brian had told him to fuck off and mind his own business. Strangest of all, Brian’s avoiding the steam room and the showers, and instead of changing into his regular clothes, he’s coming and going from the gym in his workout clothes. Before Brian wouldn’t be caught dead wearing sweats in public; now he seems to be living in them.

And there’s Woody’s and Babylon. First of all, Brian’s no longer going out every night or even every other night, and when he does, he’s drinking pop or seltzer water. _Maybe he’s trying to dry out_ , Emmett had said one night, but even he hadn’t believed it. No, it had to be something truly bizarre . . . like cancer or something. But Brian had assured him after Michael had bugged the shit out of him nonstop for days that it’s just a “stomach flu.”

Bullshit it is. If Brian really did have the flu, he wouldn’t be going out at all. He’d be at home in bed and not for the usual reason . . . speaking of which . . . now that Michael thought about it, Brian didn’t appear to be tricking either.

Something is _definitely_ up, and Michael doesn’t like it one little bit.

They’re at Woody’s when Brian cranks up the weirdness volume.

“Get off my fucking case,” Brian snaps at Michael and then misses an easy corner shot. “Goddamn it, Mikey. You’re fucking up my game. I’m going to be pissed off even more than I already am if Theodore beats me.”

“Why are you so pissed off these days?” Michael asks him. “It’s like you’ve got PMS or something.”

Brian had been eyeing a shot, but he straightens abruptly and pokes Michael in the chest with his pool cue.

“I do not have PMS,” he says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still a guy. I still have a dick.”

Michael raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Christ, I’m just trying to lighten the mood around here.”

“Things at work stressful these days?” Ted asks.

Brian just glares at him, but that’s not unusual. If Brian had actually responded with a sincere, civil answer, Michael was going to call the men in the white suits and tell them to bring a strait jacket.

Brian leans over to take his shot, when some guy . . . a _hot_ guy . . . bumps into him in a way that was obviously designed to get Brian’s attention. It does. But not in a good way. The guy hadn’t hit him hard or anything, but he’d caused Brian to collide at belly level against the table.

The punch lands so fast that Michael doesn’t even see it coming. Déjà vu, he thinks. The guy must have quick reflexes because he's able to turn his head and avoid full impact. Too bad he, himself, hadn't been so quick, Michael thinks. Brian looks ready to throw another punch, but Emmett steps between him and the stunned stranger. Michael fully expects Brian to try to push past Emmett and resume his assault, but he doesn’t. Instead, he places both hands on his middle as though he, himself, had been punched.

Michael runs to him and tries to pull him toward the door, but Brian seems frozen . . . and weirdly frightened. He looks down at his hands resting on his belly and stares at them, oblivious to the hubbub that his assault has caused, and totally unconcerned when the bartender comes over and tells him to leave.

“C’mon, Kinney,” he says. “Whatever’s up with you, take it home.”

Brian looks up at him and nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

The crowd parts as Michael leads him outside. Ted and Emmett follow close behind. As soon as they reach the sidewalk, Brian goes to the nearest steps and sits down. His hands are still on his belly, and he’s looking up at them with a really bizarre expression.

“Uhm, Bri?” Ted says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Emmett says. “You look kind of pale.”

The only thing Brian says is that he wants to go home and asks them to walk with him.

Ted and Emmett look at each other.

“No Babylon tonight?” they ask in unison.

Brian shakes his head and stands up. “Just home,” he says and then seems to suddenly emerge from a trance. He grins an uncertain-looking grin and throws his arms over Emmett and Michael’s shoulders like he does when he’s drunk and can’t stand up straight. But he’s not drunk. All he’s had tonight is a Coke with extra ice.

“Maybe you should see a doctor or something,” Ted says, and Michael winces waiting for the cutting reply. It doesn’t come. Brian just keeps on walking. When they get to the loft, he asks Michael to stay with him. Michael calls Ben to let him know. When he hangs up, he hears Brian throwing up in the bathroom.

Emmett and Ted are still there. They all look at each other. Michael’s sure they’re thinking the same thing.

Something is very wrong with Brian.

“Maybe he’s pregnant,” Emmett says.

It breaks the nervous silence, and they all burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Ted says.

“But who would’ve knocked him up?” Michael asks. “Brian doesn’t bottom.”

“Maybe Justin did before he dumped him,” Ted says, trying to keep the joke alive.

Just then Brian comes down the stairs. He freezes when he hears Ted’s words.

“Hey,” Emmett says in an effort to divert his attention and stop him from killing his boyfriend. “We’ve all decided you’re pregnant. It explains everything.”

Normal Brian would’ve laughed his head off and then said something shitty. Bizarro Brian merely says in an eerily calm voice.

“All of you. Get Out. _Now_.”

_The Present . . ._

“Hell, no, I’m not going,” Michael says when his mom calls.

“Oh, don’t be a big baby,” she replies. “I thought you and Sunshine were getting along these days. He’s going to take it as a sign if you don’t show up at his going-away party.”

“Good. He can take it as a sign that I hate his boyfriend.”

“And that you’re still pissed at him for supposedly cheating on Brian?”

“There’s no ‘supposedly’ about it. He _did_ cheat on Brian.”

“Jesus Christ. If Brian’s gotten over it, why can’t you?”

“But he _hasn’t_ gotten over it. You even said that yourself the other night when Ben and I were over for dinner.”

His mom sighs.

“Just because Brian might still have a problem with Sunshine and Ethan doesn’t mean you have to.”

“He’s my best friend, ma.”

He can practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Blah blah blah. Haven’t heard that before. Fine. Be a little shit. But I just want you to know I’m disappointed in you.”

“I really don’t care,” Michael replies. “Tell Justin I’ll see him in August.”

“I will. And I’ll also tell him you hope he and Ethan have a good time.”

“Bye, ma,” he says and hangs up before she can give him more shit.

“What was that all about?” Ben asks from the couch where’d he been reading.

“Nothing. Just my mom trying to get me to come to Justin and Ethan’s stupid going away party.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

“Hell, no I don’t want to go! Ben, you should see Brian these days. He’s a mess.”

“You don’t know that that has anything to do with Justin.”

Michael crosses his arms and frowns at his always-annoyingly-reasonable boyfriend.

“I’m not going,” he says sounding like a petulant child.

Ben smiles kindly. “Okay,” he says. “But it would probably mean a lot to Justin if you did.”

“And it’ll mean a lot to Brian if he finds out,” Michael replies. “And not in a good way.”

Ben pats the cushion beside him. Michael joins him reluctantly.

“Brian’s problems don’t have to be your problems too,” Ben says.

“Brian’s problems have _always_ been my problems,” Michael replies.

“Well, maybe this is a good time to start changing that.”

Michael looks away. He knows Ben is right, but it doesn’t matter. He’s still not going to the stupid party.

Ben puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close so that Michael can rest his head on his shoulder.

“Brian’s a big boy,” Ben says. “He can take care of himself.”

Michael doesn’t reply. Actually he isn’t at all sure Brian _can_ take care of himself. At least not these days. He sighs. Tomorrow he’s going to call Lindsay and find out if she knows anything; until then he’s going to hope the airline loses Justin and his stupid boyfriend’s luggage.


	6. Chapter 6

_A Month Ago . . ._

Some days it’s all that Ethan can do not to go to Brian’s apartment with a Uzi and blow him away. But he doesn’t want to go to jail, and it helps that he doesn’t _have_ a Uzi. It also helps that he doesn’t know where Brian lives. He has a general idea, but Just is pretty discreet when it comes to Brian, and he’s never told Ethan Brian’s address.

Actually “secretive” would be a better word than “discreet.” Justin had given him broad outlines – all the important stuff like “He’s a dick, and I don’t love him anymore.” But the question is just how _much_ of a dick? Ethan had experienced firsthand the sheer nastiness of Brian’s manipulations. He’s not a nice man. What had he been doing with someone so much younger than him? It’s creepy. Someone who’d needed him financially as well as emotionally – and sexually. Jesus! Talk about fucking someone up! Justin is seriously fucked up in the sex department. Some of the things he wants to do . . . . they make Ethan shudder to even think about them. He’d never told Justin what he believes, but he’s convinced Brian sexually abused him. Not to mention emotionally abused him. And considering the marks he’d noticed on Justin’s wrists once while Justin was still living with Brian, he wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that Brian physically abused him as well.

He’s not only a bad man; he’s a sick, twisted man. Thank God, Just left him!

He and Justin are in bed. He pulls Justin closer and holds on tight. Justin has his back to him, but he reaches around to take Ethan’s hand. Not for the first time Ethan wonders what Justin is thinking. Most of the time he’s engrossed in his art or happily hanging out in their apartment, playing with Wolfie. But sometimes . . . Sometimes Ethan will catch him with a distant look in his eyes and an expression that Ethan doesn’t know how to read. When that happens, Ethan’s sure he’s thinking about Brian. Those are the time he wishes he had a Uzi.

“Turn over,” he whispers against Justin hair.

“I like it like this,” Justin replies. “It’s cold in here and spooning keeps me warm.”

But it’s not cold.

“You’re thinking about Brian.”

Justin doesn’t answer, but his body goes tense. Ethan sighs.

“When do you think you’ll get over him?” he asks, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He immediately apologizes by covering Justin’s shoulders with little kisses.

“I _am_ over him,” Justin says. “It’s just that sometimes I think of him, that’s all. I can think about him, can’t I? He was my boyfriend for almost a year and a half, and we just broke up a couple months ago. And . . . and I cheated on him. I still feel so bad about that.”

“After everything he did to you, I say he deserved it,” Ethan says fiercely. “Besides, what would he have done to you if he’d found out sooner? He’s a psychopath, Just.”

Justin rolls over and pushes him away. Shit. Why were they having this conversation? The evening had been so much fun. They’d gotten tipsy on cheap wine, played Monopoly and made love for almost a whole hour. He’s ruining it, and he’s furious at himself. Brian’s history. Why stir cold stew?

“Brian is _not_ a psychopath,” Justin says. He’s upset. “He’s paying for my tuition, Ethan . . .”

“Yeah, so he can control you.”

“How exactly is he controlling me?”

“I see the way he looks at you when I come to the diner. He’s always got his eyes on you.”

Justin frowns. “What are you talking about? He barely looks at me at all even if he’s sitting at the counter.”

“And as soon as you turn around, he’s looking at you in this weird way. Like, I don’t know. I can’t describe it, but it freaks me out. He doesn’t even seem to give a shit that I’m right there. It’s like I’m invisible and the only person who exists in the world is you. It’s creepy, Just.”

Justin throws back the duvet and gets out of bed. Ethan sits up in alarm when he starts getting dressed.

“It’s after midnight – where are you going? Look, babe, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just that I love you so much and I want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Justin snaps. “What I need is to get away from this conversation.”

Ethan watches helplessly as he storms out the door and listens to his footsteps as he runs down the stairs. Shit. What has he done?

He gets dressed as quickly as possible. Justin’s bike is gone, but it’s a piece of shit. Ethan won’t have any trouble catching up with him on his bike, which is also a piece of shit, but it’s not as shitty as Justin’s. He knows where Justin is headed – either to Lindsay and Mel’s or Deb’s place. It’s probably Deb’s. He knows Justin thinks of her place like a second home.

The quickest route to Deb’s is down Liberty Ave. Ethan peddles as fast as he can. At last he sees Justin peddling just as hard. Ethan drops back far enough that Justin won’t see him but stays close enough that he notices Justin take a sharp right hand turn.

And that’s when Ethan’s stomach sinks. Justin isn’t going to Deb’s. He’s going to Brian’s.

Fuck!

After taking a couple more turns, Justin stops at a nondescript brick building. _This_ is where Mr. Moneybags lives? Impossible. Maybe this wasn’t Brian’s place after all . . .

. . . But it is. Justin leans his bike against a lamppost and punches a code into an intercom. He tries again. And again.

“Fuck!” Ethan hears him swear when he kicks the door with frustration. He walks backward until he’s in the middle of the street.

“Brian!” he shouts. “Brian!”

He calls Brian’s name until a man who must be a neighbor comes to the door.

“People are trying to sleep!” he yells. “Jesus Christ! This happens all the time! What the hell is it with you guys and Brian? Is he _that_ good in the sack?”

Ethan watches as Justin runs back to the door. “Let me in,” he says. “I’ll stop if you just let me in. I’m a friend of Brian’s . . .”

“Hell, no, I’m not letting some stranger in my building,” the man says angrily and slams the door in Justin’s face. Justin sags against it and then turns around, looking up at the sky. Finally he walks dejectedly back to his bike, heads back to Liberty Ave and turns toward home.

Ethan breathes a huge sigh of relief and follows him gratefully. When they get back, he’s going to make it up to Justin for starting that stupid discussion. He’s going to kiss every inch of his body and with every kiss whisper “I love you” over and over and over again.

But it turns out that’s not what happens. Not even close. Instead Justin breaks down in a way Ethan has never seen him cry before – and he had seen him cry when they first got together and Justin was still getting over his Stockholm Syndrome. But never like this. 

He’s sitting on the mattress with his hands covering his face, rocking slightly as though he’s trying to comfort himself. Ethan feels like shit. This is all his fault. If he hadn’t started that stupid conversation about Brian, they’d be curled in each other’s arms sleeping peacefully. He sits down beside Justin and puts his arms around him. Justin can’t seem to catch his breath, but when he does, to Ethan’s surprise, he starts talking.

“I . . . I have this strange feeling,” he says in a hoarse, broken voice. “I can’t explain it. I feel like . . . I don’t know, like I’m fucking something up, but I don’t know what it is. I feel like there’s something I should be doing. It’s so weird, Ethan. And it scares the shit out of me.”

Ethan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he should.

“Does it have something to do with Brian?”

Justin nods. He’s still covering his face with his hands as though he’s ashamed of something.

“Has he threatened you in some way?” Ethan asks, ready to get angry. Ready to buy that Uzi he’s been fantasizing about.

“No, of course not,” Justin replies with a sad, weary voice. “I keep telling you he would never do that. He . . . he still cares about me. I know he does. He would never hurt me . . .”

“But he _did_ ,” Ethan says. “You even told me so.”

Justin shakes his head over and over. “I know,” he says. “I . . . said things I shouldn’t have said. But you have to know, Ethan. He’s never hurt me physically and he never would. If anyone hurt anyone, it was me who hurt him. And now . . . God, I wish I didn’t feel this way! I wish I could stop hating myself, but I can’t. I broke a commitment . . . I . . . I ruined something, but I don’t know what. I just _know_. Like you know when it’s going to snow because you can sense it in the air. Brian . . . he was trying to tell me something before I left. Bastard! Why couldn’t he have just _talked_ to me?”

Now Ethan feels on the edge of tears too. He isn’t going to ask, but it sounds like Justin is saying that if Brian had just told him whatever it is that Justin thinks he was trying to say that Justin never would’ve left him. In fact it sounds like Justin has forgotten who he’s talking to. It’s like he’s confessing something to someone – someone who’s not his boyfriend.

“What if I . . . What if I had asked? I kept trying to get him to tell me he loves me, but what if I’d asked what the hell it was that he was trying to say? He kept . . . he kept doing things and saying things that didn’t make sense. God, I wish I knew why the fuck I feel this way! Is it guilt? Is that all it is? It feels like something more though . . . something bigger. But then again, he was my first love. Maybe I’ll always feel like . . . like I’d made a mistake. But Brian was never going to give me the things I want in life. He was never going to be monogamous. He was never going to give me a family.”

“Well, _I_ am going to give you those things,” Ethan says fiercely.

Justin lifts his head and looks at him through puffy eyes. Ethan waits for him to smile and lean forward for a kiss. But he doesn’t. He just looks at him.

“You know I’d _do_ anything,” Ethan tells him. “I’d _give_ you anything. Whatever your dreams are, I’ll make them come true. Hell, I’ll even have your baby if you want. There are ways . . . yeah, it would cost a lot of money, but someday that’s not going to be a problem for us.”

Justin is still just looking at him. Ethan had expected him to laugh at the idea and assure him that, no, they’d adopt so that Ethan could keep his figure, but he doesn’t. Ethan tries to break the awkwardness with his own lighthearted laugh.

“If you’d stayed with Brian, it would’ve been you who’d have to be the one to get knocked up,” he says. “Can you imagine Brian pregnant?” He laughs again.

Justin’s eyes go very wide for a second as though he’d just thought of something. Ethan waits for him to tell him what it is, but then the look vanishes.

“I need to get some sleep,” Justin says. “I have my eight a.m. class tomorrow.”

Ethan nods and watches him stand so slowly he looks like an old man, and then he watches the bathroom door close behind him. 

Justin isn’t the only one who wishes he knew what’s going on with him – Ethan does too.

_The Present . . ._

Ethan can’t believe it. He’s hallucinating. Yes, that’s what it is. He just simply can’t believe it. Because what the fucking _fuck_?

The party had been going great. The food all had a European theme (Deb had made French Fries). Everyone’s a little bit tipsy on punch, but nobody – even Deb – is making a scene. It’s just really nice, and it was even nicer that people are greeting him with hugs. It makes him feel like he’d been brought into the fold of Justin’s friends. He’s having fun, and Just is too.

Enter Brian.

Ethan’s stunned. Brian is _the_ last person in the world he’d expected to show up at his and Justin’s going-away party. Hell, he was pretty shocked that he’d even been invited at all – that is assuming that he had been. Ethan wouldn’t put it past him to be a party crasher. Especially when Justin is concerned.

It had taken him a minute, but after the sheer surprise that Brian is there at all, Ethan notices something about him. Something is . . . off. Not that Ethan has seen Brian that often, but even so . . . He can’t put his finger on it. It’s not that Brian is dressed differently than usual. He’s wearing black jeans and a button-up shirt so dark blue that it too almost looks black. And, of course, he’s got on the inevitable leather jacket. Everything he’s wearing screams MONEY! But that’s nothing new. His hair looks the same, and his face wears his usual haughty expression, so what the hell . . . ?

Then Brian takes off his jacket and turns to the side to hang it up. That’s when Ethan figures it out. Brian looks pregnant.

Oh my God! What a fucking jerk! What is this? Is he insinuating that Justin had knocked him up? Of course no one would believe it, but for a second it would cross their minds. How humiliating for Justin! Brian’s not-so-subtle act makes Justin look like a total jerk for not only leaving on a trip, but for leaving Brian in general! Ethan _knew_ Justin would see things that way. A big “fuck you, Sunshine!” God, what a _dick_! Couldn’t he just leave Justin alone?

Thankfully, Justin had gone to the bathroom. Ethan has a chance to intercept him and prepare him for what he’s about to see. It’ll give Justin time to come up with the perfect, flippant remark that’ll make Brian look like the ridiculous asshole he is.

He turns around to head upstairs, but someone grabs his arm. Ethan turns around. It’s Brian.

“Hello, Ian,” he says. “Lovely party.” He takes Ethan’s cup out of his hand and sniffs it. “Smells good. Too bad I’m not allowed to drink alcohol in my condition.”

He pats his belly. Ethan wants to strangle him.

“So, when’s the happy couple’s flight?” Brian asks. “Have you packed? Got all your undies? Your toothbrushes? You know, I find it helpful to make a checklist before I travel.”

“You . . .” Ethan says through jaws clenched in anger. “Are even a bigger jerk than I already thought you were. What? Do you think this is funny?” He gestures to Brian’s swollen belly. “I certainly don’t and no one else appears to either.”

Just then Emmett comes over.

“Brian!” he exclaims in a tone that says oh-my-God-why-are-you-here-go-away. “Fancy seeing you. You look . . .”

Brian grins. “Yes? You were about to say I look . . . what? Gorgeous as always? Smug as usual? Well on my way through my second trimester?”

Emmett’s gaze drops to Brian’s middle. He claps his hand over his mouth but not before a squeal of laughter escapes.

“Oh my God!” he says. “Teddy, Teddy, c’mere!” He’s gesturing madly. “It’s so exciting! Wait till you hear the big news!”

Ted walks over and spots Brian. “Hey, Bri,” he says with obvious surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight . . . I mean, after all it’s a going-away party for Justin and Ethan . . . Oh. My. God . . .”

Emmett’s positively jumping up in down. “It’s just what you think. Our Brian Kinney’s been knocked up . . . hey, everyone!”

Ted is laughing so hard he chokes on his punch. Brian slaps his back. “Now, now, Theodore,” he says. “Can’t have you kicking the bucket before my big day.”

By then Mel has joined the commotion. “Up the flag pole, I see,” she says, grinning malevolently from ear-to-ear. “God, what I would give for it to really be true!” She punches him in the arm. “But, seriously,” she says, the grin vanishing from her face. “This is kind of a dick thing to do. Crashing Justin and Ethan’s party is bad enough but implying Justin’s about to abandon his pregnant partner? . . . that kind of sucks, Brian.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mel,” Ted says. “It’s all in good fun, right Bri?”

Brian hasn’t stopped grinning. He looks like the cat that got the cream.

“That’s right,” he says. “All in good fun. Now where is my baby’s daddy?” He scans the room with his hand shading his eyes.

That’s when Deb spots him. “Hey, kiddo,” she says with forced pleasure. “So glad you made it. Sunshine will be happy to see you support . . . oh my dear God in fucking heaven!”

Everyone cracks up again at her reaction to Brian’s “baby bump.” She stands on her tip-toes so she can slap him on the head.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or rip you a brand new asshole, which, by the way, it looks like you may need,” she says.

Emmett looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing in giggles.

“Now, now,” Brian says. “The baby won’t be born out of my ass, Deb. It’ll be a caesarian.”

Deb rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Alright, mommy dearest,” she says. “Time to get rid of the pillow. I assured Sunshine you wouldn’t be a dick if you showed up. Now hurry up before he comes back . . .”

Suddenly everyone goes silent. Ethan’s stomach drops. He’s pretty sure he knows who just came downstairs.

“Hi, there, Sunshine,” Brian says. “Just thought I’d drop by to wish you a good trip.”

Ethan really hopes Justin can come up with a good retort, or even better punch Brian in the face. But neither of those things happen. Justin merely freezes, his mouth open and his eyes flicking back and forth between Brian’s face and Brian’s stomach.

It’s really _really_ awkward. Especially when Brian places his hands on his belly and his smiling expression turns to dead seriousness.

“Congratulations, Justin,” Ted says. “Bet you didn’t know you’re a father!”

There’s a titter of nervous laughter. Emmett puts his arm around Ted’s shoulder.

“Uhm, Teddy?” he whispers in his ear. “This stopped being funny.”

Ethan shakes himself out of the weird trance he’d slipped into and walks over to Justin’s side. He takes Justin’s hand.

“C’mon,” he says soothingly. “We still have some packing to do.”

But Justin doesn’t take the offered out. He’s still staring at Brian. Ethan doubts that Justin even heard him. His mouth’s open, and his cheeks are as pale as paper.

“Damn it, Brian,” Deb says. “Either leave or stop being an asshole. You had your little joke. Time to show us the pillow.”

“You really think that ‘stop being an asshole’ is a viable choice?” Ted says, but Deb doesn’t laugh. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Brian.

“Oh, I see,” she says mockingly. “So I guess your quote-unquote ‘stomach flu’ is actually morning sickness? What else do you want to throw at poor Sunshine? How about the heart you’ve ripped out of his chest . . . again!”

Brian turns his head to look at her. He’s smiling again, but it’s a nasty, humorless smile. “Yeah, that _was_ morning sickness,” he says. “My obstetrician said the nausea would go away after I passed the first trimester, but it hasn’t. What can I say? Sometimes I don’t make it to the toilet in time.”

Everyone coughs and shuffles and looks around as though following the trail of a bug that’s flying around the room.

“C’mon, Just,” Ethan says again. He starts walking toward the door, pulling Justin with him, but Justin shakes off his grasp with surprising violence. He walks up to Brian.

“Is it true?” he asks in wavering voice that breaks Ethan’s heart. “Tell me, Brian! I have to know. I have to know if this is all a big joke you and Lindsay are playing.”

Suddenly Brian isn’t smiling anymore. For a terrifying instant Ethan thinks he’s going to punch Justin in the face just like he had Michael at Lindsay and Mel’s party. Well, if anyone was going to take a punch from Brian, it’s going to be him. Brian had already hurt Justin enough!

He steps between them and squeezes his eyes shut, but the punch never comes. Instead, Brian turns on his heels and heads for the door.

“Thank God,” he breathes in relief and turns so he can pull Justin into his arms. But he’s too late. Justin’s already halfway out the door himself, calling Brian’s name.


	7. Chapter 7

_Two Weeks Ago . . ._

He’s hit a wall. Almost literally, but fortunately not quite. It’s a really good thing his walls are made of brick and not plaster or he’d be on his way to the emergency room with a broken hand. That would’ve sucked. He already has enough problems.

None of his pants fit anymore. He’s using industrial strength safety pins to keep the flies closed. Occasionally, they pop open him and jab him, making him jump and swear under his breath. If anyone’s noticed, no one has said anything, which is good. If they did he’d have to kill them and get rid of the bodies, which would be difficult considering he’s tired all the time and bending over has started to become a challenge. There’d be too much dragging and digging. Plus there’s the tricky issue of dental records. He didn’t want to give birth in a prison infirmary.

Give birth. God, the prospect _terrifies_ him. Of all the reasons he’d been able to come up with to get rid of the baby, the idea of giving birth was the most compelling. The operation is dangerous, and he’ll be bed-ridden for weeks, if not months. 

But in the end, he hadn’t gotten an abortion. Maybe it was because he, himself, had almost been aborted. His mother had probably even tried. Who knows? Maybe she’d used a clothes hanger or drank a glass of bleach? Whatever she might have done, it hadn’t worked. He’s alive and kicking and for the most part is glad for the fact . . . although lately. Christ. He’s coming undone. He can’t sleep even though he’s exhausted. He can’t eat because he can’t keep food down. He’s so fucking _uncomfortable_ that he’s unable to think about anything except his body and what’s happening to it. It was starting to affect his work, which is why he decided to take a week off. He needs to pull it together. He doesn’t want to stop going to the office and Woody’s and Babylon. He doesn’t want to become housebound until he absolutely _has_ to be. He wants to hang out with Mikey and watch shitty movies . . .

. . . and he wants Justin. Lindsay has been great, but the strain of worrying about him is getting to her. She has their son to think of, and he doesn’t want Gus to suffer. Plus, Lindsay can’t reasonably spend more than a couple hours with him a day. It isn’t enough. He’s lonely, and he _hates_ it. He hates his whole life . . . and he’s afraid he’ll blame it all on the baby and start hating it too. None of this is its fault. It’s just doing what it’s supposed to be doing. If this is anyone’s fault . . .

But it isn’t anyone’s fault, and he knows it. It’s not even Justin’s fault although none of this would’ve have happened if Justin hadn’t fucked him. But then Brian had _let_ him. Justin’s dick wouldn’t have been anywhere near his ass, let along come inside it, if Brian hadn’t given him permission. If anyone is to blame it’s the fucking guy who made the condom. Or maybe Jennifer for a having a kid with a gigantic, condom-tearing cock.

The phone rings. It’s Lindsay. He knows he should answer to put her mind at ease, but he just can’t. He’s not ready to admit that he doesn’t know if he can do this by himself. He’s not ready to start talking to her about how he might let Justin know – what he’ll say. What he’ll do. How he’ll handle it when Justin says he’ll help out, but he’s still going to stay with what’s-his-face. They’d have to arrange a schedule of some sort: Justin will be with him on the days he doesn’t have classes. He’ll make a shitload of healthy food and put it in individual meal-sized Tupperware containers and freeze them. He’ll do the shopping and cleaning because at some point Brian’s going to have to lay-off his housecleaner. Maybe Justin would watch a movie with him now and then. Maybe Justin would even give him the occasional back or foot rub. But then Justin would fuck off back to the fiddler for the night, and Brian will lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck has become of his life.

He isn’t sure he can handle it. But he’s equally unsure that he can carry this baby alone. Having Justin around even a little bit would be better than not having him around at all, right?

Brian takes off his shirt and jeans and stands in front of his full length mirror in nothing but his shorts. He turns from side to side, examining his belly from every angle. If he wore the right shirts, it could go undetected for at least another month. He’d have Lindsay go shopping with him. His suits, though, are useless. He’ll have to buy new ones. Six thousand dollars-worth of expensive suits down the drain. When he gives the baby up, maybe he can get the adopting couple to pay for new ones. They’ll probably be ready to spend their life fucking savings for this baby, but Brian doesn’t want that. He wants the kid to start out financially secure. In fact, he’ll find a way to make sure the baby has everything a kid could possibly want in life. Even though he’s not going to keep it, the baby will still be as much his as Gus is. To the extent he can, Brian is going to make sure they’re _both_ taken care of equally.

He places his hand on his belly. The skin is so taut it’ll be amazing if it doesn’t burst. The obstetrician had told him he had to stop doing any kind of exercise that will strengthen his core muscles because it’ll be harder for the baby to grow if his muscles don’t have some give in them. That’s another thing that’s upsetting him – the knowledge that his body is going to go to hell. He’s going to be stretched out and flabby. How will he ever be able to let someone near him again? Fucking is off the menu for the foreseeable future even after the kid is born.

Which brings his mind back full circle to Justin. Justin might – _might_ – be the only person that Brian would be able to tolerate touching him and seeing him naked. After all, if Brian looks like crap, it’s half Justin’s fault. Plus, Justin’s fucking the fiddler. If he can tolerate a body like that, he can tolerate any body shape.

God, despite how shitty he feels, this train of thought is turning him on. He goes to the couch and pushes his shorts down to the middle of his thighs. His cock is already hard. He reaches between the cushions for the lube, squirts some in his palm and then rubs his hands together to warm it up. His head falls back in bliss when he wraps his fingers around himself and starts slowly moving his fist up and done. He wants this to last as long as possible. Jerking off is the only thing that can distract him from feeling miserable. He closes his eyes and, as it so often does, the memory of _that_ night fills his mind. He’s on his knees and elbows again, his ass in the air and his face pressed into the pillow. Even though he’s being fucked, he can also see the scene as though he’s standing in the room watching. He sees himself, muscles tense, body slamming backward into every thrust. He sees Justin, his hands gripping his hips, his fingertips creating depressions in Brian’s skin. He watches Justin thrust as hard as he can, his own muscles straining. His hair is clinging to the sweat on his neck, turning the blond to light brown. Every time his pelvis makes contact with Brian’s ass, he exhales sharply with a soft, urgent sound. Meanwhile he, himself, is demanding greater depth, a smoother pace. He remembers what he was feeling . . . he remembers the building orgasm, the way every breath was a vortex, pulling him closer and closer to release. The pleasure is no longer just pleasure; it’s a powerful sensation bordering on unbearable, growing growing growing to encompass his whole body until suddenly he can’t take another second and everything gives way and comes crashing down. Somewhere in the distance he hears Justin cry out, and then Justin freezes, buried as deep as he can possibly be . . .

. . . and that’s when the baby was made.

Brian returns to the moment as his hips buck upward into his grasp one last time and then he’s coming, his eyes squeezed shut, willing the pleasure to keep going. To never stop. But of course it does, and when it does, Brian, because he’s a hormonal wreck, breaks down and cries.

_The Present . . ._

Lindsay. Lindsay had told him. Lindsay had told Justin. She’d broken a promise to him – the only promise he’s ever demanded from anyone ever. Justin knew. And now Justin is running up behind him, calling his name.

The possibility that Justin might actually believe that he’s pregnant never crossed Brian’s mind. The whole idea was so totally ludicrous. The joke had seemed safe and harmless. Of course, he was going to show everyone the pillow, and then everyone would have had a good, old laugh (well, maybe not Justin and Ethan, but oh well).

But it wasn’t ludicrous. At least not to Justin. Because Lindsay had told him. Which explains why he hadn’t seen her there. Maybe she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of celebrating Justin’s departure after having told him about the pregnancy.

The puzzle pieces are all coming together.

Fuck. Now what? Justin was going to demand to know if it’s true, and Brian is not going to lie to his face. He’s going to say, “yeah, it’s true.” And then? Brian has no clue what’ll happen next. He doesn’t know what Justin will say. He doesn’t know what he, himself, will say.

And then there’s the whole business of the fiddler and his tour.

Christ. What a fucking mess.

Suddenly, someone grabs his arm. Of course, it’s Justin. He’s breathless, but it’s obviously more from emotion than exertion. After all, Brian hadn’t walked very fast or very far. He stops but he doesn’t turn around to look at Justin’s face. Justin shakes his arm. Hard.

“Is it true, Brian?” he says. “You _have_ to tell me! There’s no way I can leave without knowing!”

Brian jerks out of his grasp and turns around. “And what if I say it _is_ true?” he asks. “And then you know the answer, will you still go?”

Justin looks at him blankly for a second, and then he gets mad – really mad.

“Fuck you!” he yells. “Do you really believe you have to ask that question?”

Brian gets mad right back. “Yeah, actually I do! I do need to ask that question! After all, as you said when I told you about paying your tuition ‘we’re not together anymore.’ Remember that conversation? I sure as hell do. I had a fucking baby growing inside me – a _baby_! And there you were reminding me that you’d dumped my ass as if I needed a reminder! So, yeah, Justin, I do need to ask. Are you going off with what’s-his-fucking-face if I tell you I’m pregnant? Because if you are . . . if you are . . . Fuck!”

Brian turns again and starts walking away. He’s going to fucking cry. Here he is practically _begging_ Justin to come back – or at the very least begging him not to leave. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe he’s betrayed himself like this.

Justin runs after him and grabs his arm again and spins him around. Before Brian has a chance to process what’s happening, Justin tries to punch him in the stomach. It’s an instinct so powerful that there’s no way it can come from him alone – he jumps back, nearly tripping, his hands shielding his belly.

“Don’t!” he cries.

"So it really _is_ true," Justin says. "You really _are_ pregnant."

Brian doesn't reply. He’s too shocked. The clever little shit! _Not bad, Sunshine_ , he thinks. _Not bad_.

Suddenly, Justin moves toward him again, and Brian almost jumps back again, but not this time. The instinct to protect himself and the baby doesn’t kick in, so he’s standing still when Justin throws his arms around his neck. Only a fraction of a second passes before Brian is returning the embrace. They hold each other tight. They stay like that for a long time, but Brian still isn’t ready to let go when Justin steps back, but he does.

They stand face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. It reminds Brian of _that_ night when Justin had taken the condom out of his hand and tried to roll him over. And then he remembers. Justin still hasn’t answered his question.

Justin must’ve read his mind because when Brian opens his mouth, he drops to his knees right there in the middle of the fucking sidewalk and places a reverent kiss on Brian’s belly.

Brian freezes. Shit. The cushion. He’d forgotten he’s still wearing the stupid cushion. Shit. Justin is going to . . .

But it’s too late. Justin has figured it out. He scrambles to his feet, his face red with outrage.

“You bastard!” he yells. “You . . . Jesus! I don’t even have the words . . . !”

Brian is ignoring him and unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he can. When it’s open, he starts unbuckling the belts holding the cushion in place. When he’s done, he tosses it all on the ground and stands there, arms out to the sides and his palms facing forward. It’s the kind of stance a cop would demand if he was going to search you. _Look_ , Brian says in his mind. _Just fucking look. If you do, maybe this time you’ll actually SEE_.

But Justin is still pissed. When he turns to go back to Deb’s house, Brian grabs his arm.

“You bastard!” he yells. “You . . . Jesus! I don’t even have the words . . . !”

“Shut up!” Brian yells at him. “Just shut the fuck up, okay?” He yanks Justin back close enough that he can press Justin’s palm against his belly and watches a dozen different emotions cross Justin’s face. Anger turns to confusion which turns to disbelief which turns to happiness . . . and then it comes back full circle to anger again, but the anger is so mixed up with all the other emotions that Justin doesn’t seem to know how to handle it all. _Finally_ he decides on the right response.

Justin kisses him.

“You’re an asshole, Brian,” Justin whispers against his mouth.

“Yeah, I am,” he replies. “And you, Sunshine, are a dad.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Twenty Minutes Ago . . ._

Justin freezes at the top of the stairs. Brian. Brian is here. He has _no_ idea what Brian’s presence might mean. Is he here to be an asshole? Is he here to try to get Justin to take his money? He knows it’ll be hard for Justin to turn down a kind gesture in front of everyone. Or is Brian simply here to show Justin that everything’s okay between them and that he’s happy that Justin and Ethan are going on such an exciting trip?

Justin descends slowly, trying to prepare himself for whatever Brian might’ve planned. But as soon as he sees Brian, Justin realizes that no amount of preparation could possibly be enough. There Brian is. As usual, everyone seems to have gathered around him held in place by the gravity of his personality – even Ethan . . .

. . . then, as though they were all connected, everyone turns around and looks at _him_. They’re clearly waiting to see how he’ll react to something, but what? And then it hits him. Brian looks pregnant. That’s why everyone is looking at him. Because who else could be the baby’s other father?

“Hi, there, Sunshine,” Brian says. “Just thought I’d drop by to wish you and Ian a good trip.”

Brian had been smiling up at him, but by the time Justin reached the bottom stair, his expression had turned deadly serious. He places his hands on his belly.

 _Oh God!_ Justin thinks. _Oh, God, it’s true!_

“Congratulations, Justin,” Ted says. “Bet you didn’t know you’re a father!”

He hears Ted’s words, and for a second he doesn’t realize that they’re a joke until Emmett tells Ted that Brian’s prank is no longer funny.

Lindsay had tried to tell him. Hell, his own gut had been trying to tell him for months! Brian is pregnant. Brian is pregnant with _his_ baby. He, Justin, is a father! Ted is right! He can’t figure out where to rest his eyes – on Brian’s accusing expression or his swollen belly – so his gaze keeps switching back and forth until he starts to feel dizzy.

Suddenly he feels someone take his hand. He turns his head and sees Ethan, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even say anything when Ethan suggests they need to go home to finish packing. Justin knows it’s an out, but . . . but Brian’s pregnant!

“Damn it, Brian,” Deb says. “Either leave or stop being an asshole. You had your little joke. Time to show us the pillow.”

 _But it’s not a pillow_ , Justin almost says. _It’s a baby. I know it is. Part of me has always known it . . ._

“You really think that ‘stop being an asshole’ is a viable choice?” Ted says, but Deb doesn’t laugh. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Brian.

“Oh, I see,” she says mockingly. “So I guess your quote-unquote ‘stomach flu’ is actually morning sickness? What else do you want to throw at poor Sunshine? How about the heart you’ve ripped out of his chest . . . again!”

Brian turns his head to look at her. He’s smiling again, but it’s a nasty, humorless smile. “Yeah, that was morning sickness,” he says. “My obstetrician said the nausea would go away after I passed the first trimester, but it hasn’t. What can I say? Sometimes I don’t make it to the toilet in time.”

First trimester? That must mean . . . Justin’s mind is flipping through dates . . . Brian’s about four months along. Four fucking months! He’s been pregnant for four months and never said anything! He’d just let Justin walk out the door . . . and now this fucking scene! Asshole!

“C’mon, Just,” Ethan is saying, and the next thing Justin knows he’s been pulled to the door. No! He’s not going anywhere! Not until he knows the fucking truth!

“Is it true?” he asks. “Tell me, Brian! I have to know. I have to know if this is all a big joke you and Lindsay are playing.”

Brian doesn’t respond – not even with some flippant, shitty remark. He looks just as shocked as Justin is. Lindsay. Fuck. Lindsay had told him not to let Brian know that she’d told him about Brian’s pregnancy . . . Brian’s angry that she’d broken a promise, but . . . but that would mean this _isn’t_ a joke at all. Brian and Lindsay aren’t partners on a prank . . . they’re partners in keeping a secret. A _huge_ secret. A secret now revealed by Brian’s body. A secret that will change the course of Justin’s entire life . . .

Bastard! Justin is going to fucking _kill_ him!

But before he can, before he can do anything at all, Brian’s storming through the door and hurrying down the street toward his Jeep.

As soon as he can free his muscles from their frozen state of shock, Justin runs after him.

“Brian!” he yells. “Brian!”

When he catches up with Brian it takes him a moment to find his breath. It feels like his lungs have lost half of their capacity. He grabs Brian’s arm.

“Is it true, Brian?” he gasps. “You _have_ to tell me! There’s no way I can leave without knowing!”

Hell, now _that_ is the understatement of the century! Justin thinks. Fuck leaving for Europe, fuck leaving anywhere ever again! He’s a father, Goddamn it! Fathers don’t leave their kids!

When Brian doesn’t answer him, Justin shakes his arm as hard as he can. Brian’s lucky it’s not his neck.

Brian jerks out of his grasp and turns around. “And what if I say it is true?” he asks. “And then you know the answer, will you still go?”

What? _What?!_ Is Brian kidding? Is this just more of the big joke he’s playing? Does Brian really know so little about him? Does he really _think_ so little of him? Asshole!

“Fuck you!” he yells. “Do you really believe you have to ask that question?”

Brian’s expression turns from hunted to super pissed off.

“Yeah, actually I do!” he yells back. “I _do_ need to ask that question! After all, as you said when I told you about paying your tuition ‘we’re not together anymore.’ Remember that conversation? I sure as hell do. I had a fucking baby growing inside me – a _baby_! And there you were reminding me that you’d dumped my ass as if I needed a reminder! So, yeah, Justin, I do need to ask. Are you going off with what’s-his-fucking-face if I tell you I’m pregnant? Because if you are . . . if you are . . . Fuck!”

Brian is walking away again. Justin knows he can’t let that happen, but for a second he feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart. Of course he remembers that conversation! He remembers every fucking word! He remembers his snide comment about Brian being alone “for once.” He remembers telling Brian he needn’t keep paying his tuition because he’s with Ethan now. He remembers how Brian had merely sat there barely looking at him; how he didn’t say good-bye when Justin left. Fuck! Brian had _known_ – he’d _known_ he’s pregnant but hadn’t said anything. Either Brian is the biggest fucking asshole alive or he’s a liar.

Suddenly, it comes to him. If he wants to know if Brian is pregnant or not, there’s one sure way to find out. Justin will pretend to try to punch him in the stomach. If Brian isn’t pregnant, he’ll stand his ground and grab Justin’s wrist. But if he is pregnant . . .

Justin feigns a solid punch right at Brian’s middle, and Brian jumps backward, nearly falling on his ass, both hands held in front of his belly as though he’s shielding himself . . . and someone else.

“Don’t!” he cries, his voice panicked.

So it is true.

Justin might’ve said the words or he might not have. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he needs to get as close as physically possible to Brian and the baby. He throws his arms around Brian’s neck and feels a surge of relief when Brian hugs him back. He can feel Brian’s belly pressed against him. He can hear Brian’s pounding heart beats. Brian pulls him tighter, and Justin doesn’t want to let go, but he also wants to _look_. He steps back, and they stand silently, watching each other. Brian looks oddly uncertain.

 _I haven’t answered his question_ , Justin thinks. Brian is still wondering whether he’s still going away. Justin wants to yell at him again and demand to know how Brian can think so little of him, but then he remembers . . . he remembers sneaking around, lying, cheating . . .

He _has_ to make it one hundred percent clear to Brian that he’s not leaving. That there’s no way in hell that he’d leave. He lowers himself to his knees, takes Brian’s hips in his hands, and kisses that beautiful, swollen . . .

What. The. Fuck?!

A pillow. Jesus fucking Christ! Brian has a fucking pillow strapped to his middle! This really is all a huge, big fucking joke, and Brian has managed to make the biggest fool of him in the whole world! And in front of everybody! 

And then it makes sense. Brian is getting him back for publicly leaving him at the release party. Justin scrambles to his feet, his blood boiling with anger. Of all the things that Brian could’ve possibly done, this is the worst!

“You bastard!” he yells. “You . . . Jesus! I don’t even have the words to describe what a huge, giant, fucking _dick_ you are!”

But Brian’s not listening. Of course, he’s not. Brian never listens. He doesn’t have to. He’s Brian. No one else matters. 

“You bastard!” Justin yells. “You . . . Jesus! I don’t even have the words . . . !”

Brian is just standing there with his shirt open and his hands out in a stance that shouted “See, Sunshine? There’s no baby, you gullible twat. Now fuck off back to Ian and have fun blowing him on the Eurail!”

Justin isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking at him again.

“You bastard!” he yells. “You . . . Jesus! I don’t even have the words . . . !”

He’s turned back towards Deb’s house, but Brian grabs his arm, tugs him close and presses Justin’s hand against his belly. He tries to struggle away, but Brian’s too strong. His belly is warm and hard as always, but maybe just a little more than usual . . . Justin spreads his fingers, and that’s when he notices the discernible swelling . . .

Oh my God! Brian really _is_ pregnant . . . and the pillow really _had_ been a joke! Brian had just never expected Justin to fall for it so completely. He hadn’t figured in Lindsay’s revelation. God, it would all be hilarious except . . . except that Brian was going to let him leave without saying anything. Goddamn it! Brian is such . . .

Justin kisses him.

“You’re an asshole, Brian,” he whispers against Brian's mouth.

“Yeah, I am,” he replies. “And you, Sunshine, are a dad.”

_The Present . . ._

This time when Justin gets on his knees, his lips touch skin. And that’s when it hits him.

Holy shit! There’s a baby in there! It’s his baby – his and Brian’s! Has Brian seen it? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it healthy? How big is it? What does it look like? Will it have brown hair or blond? Will it have hazel eyes or will they be blue?

He wants to know all the answers to all those questions and more, but when he looks up at Brian’s face, he can see that Brian’s in no condition to have a conversation . . . he looks absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline rush must’ve drained him.

Justin stands and helps him button his shirt.

“You should maybe lie down,” he says. “Let’s go back to Deb’s.”

But Brian shakes his head. Of course, he’s not going back to the scene of his crime.

“Home,” he says.

“I’ll come with you,” Justin says. “Let me just . . .”

Shit.

The trip.

Ethan.

Shit!

Brian shakes his head again. He bends over awkwardly to pick up the cushion and then he turns and starts walking to his Jeep. Justin follows him.

“I’ll go back and talk to Ethan,” he says. “I’ll tell him I can’t go with him.”

Brian opens the door and gets in. When he puts on his seatbelt, Justin watches him carefully tuck it under his belly. It makes him realize just how much every single little detail of Brian’s life has been affected.

“And then what?” Brian asks. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, just sitting there, staring through the windshield at nothing. “What are you going to tell him? You’re sure as hell aren’t going to tell him the truth. No one but you and Lindsay know, and I want to keep it that way if I can.”

“But I have to tell him something,” Justin says, feeling increasingly wretched. “I can’t just tell him I’m not going and not tell him why.”

Brian starts the engine.

“Brian!” he yells when Brian starts to drive away.

Brian slams on the breaks.

“Listen,” he says. “What you and Ian do is up to you. You know about the baby. Make your choice. Just keep me in the loop, alright?”

Keep him in the loop? Is he even being serious?

“Brian. I told you I’m not going on the trip. I’m not changing my mind about that. You know me better than that – or at least I hope you do. I’m going to stay right here in Pittsburgh, and I’m going to help out in every way I can.”

Brian swallows and nods, but he doesn’t try to change Justin’s mind.

“Okay,” he says.

Justin breaks into a relieved smile. He’d been worried he’d get some serious pushback and bullshit about “an opportunity of a lifetime.” Now he knows Brian wants him to be here, that he wants Justin’s help.

“Okay,” Brian says again. “Look, I’m really tired, and I don’t feel well. I need to lie down. Why don’t you and Ethan go home and discuss all of this . . .” he sighs. “If you feel you have to tell him about the baby, then do it. I give you permission. I’m not crazy about it, but . . . but I know you don’t want to have to lie to him.”

It’s Justin’s turn to swallow and nod.

Brian gives him a little but genuine smile and puts the Jeep in gear again. “Call me,” is all he says before he drives away.


	9. Chapter 9

_Two Hours Ago . . ._

“I’ll drive you home,” Mel says, and Ethan is relieved. First of all, he’d dreaded the long trip with a Justin who was acting really weird, and second of all, he wanted to get home as soon as possible to talk about what the hell is going on.

Justin sits in the front seat. He’s barely able to keep still. Did Brian give him cocaine or something? Ethan wouldn’t be at all surprised. Brian had probably forced Justin to do drugs all the time while they were together. Or if he hadn’t actually forced him, Brian probably made him feel like loser until he did.

When they arrive at Ethan and Justin’s building, Justin thanks Mel and immediately gets out of the car. Ethan is about to follow him when Mel turns in her seat.

“Listen,” she says. “I apologize ahead of time for whatever it is Justin’s going to say. Brian is an asshole. He’s always had way too much influence over him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ethan replies.

She sighs. “Yeah, but for some reason, maybe because Lindsay loves him and he’s Gus’s father, I feel like Brian’s part of my family, which makes me feel somehow responsible for the shit he pulls.”

Ethan gives her a wan smile. “Thanks for the ride,” he says.

Mel returns his wan smile with one of her own.

“Good luck in there,” she says.

“Thanks, I think I’m going to need it,” he replies.

Back in the apartment, Justin can’t sit still. He sits on the couch for a moment and then pops up and paces and then it’s back to the couch again. Ethan leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

“So . . .”

Justin looks at him pleadingly.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t go with you tomorrow, Ethan. Something . . . something’s come up.”

“With Brian.”

Justin nods. “Yeah, and it’s a big deal. A _really_ big deal.”

“Big enough to cancel plans we’ve been making for weeks?”

“Bigger than that . . . it’s so big it’s going to change my life forever.”

Ethan narrows his eyes. “Care to fill me in? I mean, Just, this is totally unexpected. I barely even know what to say. I’m in shock. How can your feelings for me change just like that?” He snaps his fingers.

Justin winces and looks away. “I . . . I still care about you, Ethan.”

So that’s it then. He’d been hoping beyond hope that the trip was the only thing that Justin is bailing on. But it’s clear that it’s more than that. Justin wants to break up.

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t be doing this!” he shouts.

“But it’s _true_ ,” Justin replies, begging for Ethan to believe him. He almost looks like he’s about to get on his knees and beseech Ethan for his understanding . . . for his fucking _blessing_.

Well, he isn’t going to get either of those things.

“Bullshit!” he yells. “This isn’t about me. This is about Brian! What the hell did he say to you, Justin? Did he threaten you in some way? It’s the only thing that makes any sense to me!”

Justin stands and tries to go to him, but Ethan backs away. He’s not going to be placated by a consoling hug!

“Yes, it is about Brian, but it’s about me too,” Justin says, trying to soothe him. “Brian is my future. He _has_ to be. Even if I wanted to have a choice between staying with you or getting back together with him, there just simply isn’t one.”

“So, he threatened you. He told you if you don’t come back to him that he’s going to hurt you or, I don’t know, hurt me or your mom or . . .”

“Ethan, listen,” Justin pleads. “Brian didn’t threaten me.”

“I should call the police,” Ethan says.

Justin rolls his eyes and flops back down on the couch. “And if they came, what would you say? That there’s some guy who’s ‘making’ your boyfriend break up with you ?”

“It depends entirely on _how_ he’s making you do it. You love me, Just! Me, not Brian. _Me_! You’re wearing my ring for fuck sake!”

Justin glances down at his hand looking like he’s never seen it before. He twists the ban of the ring Ethan had given him. Neither of them say anything for what feels like forever, and then Justin takes a deep, shaky breath . . . and takes it off.

Ethan breaks down in sobs. How can this be happening? How can he be losing the person he wanted to share his life with? Forget “losing” he’s _already_ lost Justin. It’s obvious from the calm and determined look on Justin face.

“He can never give you what you want in life,” Ethan says, his voice cracking around every word. “You’ve said so yourself. He can’t even tell you he loves you, Justin! He’s going to use you and toss you aside. He’s never going to settle down; he’s never going to give you a family . . .”

“Ethan,” Justin says. “Brian is pregnant.”

Ethan’s jaw drops. Literally. It literally drops. Justin is looking up at him with a frank expression. Clearly for him, it’s the end of the discussion. Brian is pregnant. Case closed.

Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!

That’s it. He’s had it. Brian has finally crossed the last line. He’s finally pushed Ethan over the edge.

His key is in his pocket. One of the deadbolts on the door is broken. It can be locked from the outside, but it can’t be unlocked from the inside. And what’s more, Justin’s cell phone is in the pocket of his jeans jacket, which is hanging by the door.

“I need some fresh air,” Ethan says. He’s shaking. He cannot believe that he’s about to do – what he’s _going_ to do. He’s not that person. He doesn’t want to be that person. But Brian has forced him to be; it’s one more reason to hate him.

Justin nods. “Of course. I’ll be here when you get back. I’m not going anywhere.”

Indeed you’re not, Ethan thinks. He walks to the door, slips Justin’s phone out of the pocket of his jacket and puts it in his. His heart pounding, he walks through door and closes it behind him. And then he inserts the key in the broken deadbolt and turns it. There’s a click as it slides into place. For a moment there’s silence on the other side of the door, and then Ethan hears Justin say his name.

“Ethan?” he says. “Uhm, you really don’t need to lock the door.”

“Actually, I do,” he says. “I’m sorry, Just. But I can’t take it anymore. You can break up with me if that’s what you want to do, but I’m not going to let Brian get away with this . . . this fucking twisted prank.”

There’s a long silence, and then Justin says, “What are you talking about, Ethan?”

But Ethan is halfway down the stairs.

“Ethan!!” Justin yells. “Ethan!!” But it’s too late. Ethan is not going to change his mind.

_The Present . . ._

“Help!” Ethan screams. “Please, someone! God, _please_!”

He starts sobbing. He’s shaking so hard he can’t stand. He screams again.

“Someone! Please! I need help!”

The EMTs might not come in time! They might not get here soon enough! Ethan screams again for help.

He’d . . . he’d been so angry, so full of hate and rage, and there Brian had been, haughty as always, shoving Ethan out the door so he could slam it in his face. Ethan couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t said everything he’d needed to say.

It’d happened so fast that Ethan hadn't realized what he’d done until it was over. The only thing he remembers is grabbing Brian’s arm and pulling on it with all the violence in his heart. He’d caught Brian off guard, and he’d stumbled forward and before either he or Ethan could stop it, he was falling down the stairs.

The next thing Ethan realized is that Brian is lying on the landing . . . he isn’t moving. Ethan had run down the stairs, almost tripping, fear filling his heart, then his chest, until fear is surging through his whole entire body. Brian is on his side, and Ethan rolls him onto his back, but then he panics. What if Brian’s spine is broken? Aren’t you not supposed to move someone with a broken back? What if he was making things worse?!

“Brian,” he says, smacking Brian’s cheeks. “Wake up, please, God! _Wake up_!” There’s no blood, but Brian is clearly struggling for breath, and he’s got a compound fracture on his right forearm that probably happened when he’d tried to stop his fall. Ethan can see the bone, shockingly white in the dim light.

Ethan screams for help again. Where the _fuck_ are Brian’s neighbors?! God, how had this happened . . . ?

. . . He’d arrived at Brian’s building and pressed the buzzer on the intercom until Brian had answered with a shouted “This had better be fucking important! Who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Ethan,” Ethan had said more calmly than he would’ve imagined possible, and then to his surprise the door had clicked open. He’d seen from Brian’s mailbox that he lived on the top floor, and he'd run up the stairs two at a time. Brian had been waiting in his open door. He was wearing sweats and a blue silk robe tied at the waist.

Ethan had frozen. He’d been so intent on just getting to Brian’s apartment that he hadn’t thought of what he was going to say when he actually did confront Brian.

“Well, come in,” Brian had snapped.

Ethan had had the sense that he’d just stepped into a very nice space, but he hadn’t looked around. All he’d been able to see was Brian’s annoyed expression and his unusually rumpled hair.

“This had better be good,” Brian had drawled. “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

“You . . . you . . .” Ethan had sputtered. “You fucking asshole!”

“Oh please,” Brian had said. “You could’ve called and said that over the phone before coming here and waking me up.”

“You are fucking with Justin’s mind!” Ethan had yelled. “You’re a fucking . . . a fucking menace!”

Brian had laughed. He’d actually fucking laughed!

“A ‘menace’ huh? I like that. It’s more imaginative than ‘fucking asshole.’”

Ethan had been in shock. To the extent he’d imagined his confrontation with Brian, this horrible flippancy had never crossed his mind. Red had filled his vision.

“He told me you’re pregnant! He told me he was fucking leaving me because you managed to somehow convince him you’re pregnant!”

“And I succeeded,” Brian had replied with a yawn. “Is he still wearing that cheap piece of garbage you’d tried to pass off as a ‘ring’?”

The fucker had made finger quotes when he’d said “ring.” That’d been when Ethan had realized that there was nothing he could say that could affect Brian, let alone make him feel guilty. Brian simply didn’t give a shit!

“You’ve ruined my life,” Ethan had screamed at him. “I _love_ Justin! You don’t! You never have! You’re a fucking sociopath!”

“I’m also a tired sociopath,” Brian had said. “Look, Justin’s a big boy. He made his choice. Don’t waste your breath screaming at me, which, by the way, is hurting my ears. For a man, you have a very shrill voice. It’s very annoying.”

“I hate you,” Ethan had said. He’d no longer been screaming, but his voice had been full of venom.

“I’m not surprised,” Brian had replied and then yawned again. “Now are we done? Unless you have something of substance to say, I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay. You want substance?” Ethan had said his voice rising to a yell again. “I’ll give you fucking substance! You are _not_ pregnant, you’re a slimy, manipulative, evil shit!”

Brian had arched an eyebrow. “‘Evil’? Now that’s a new one. I’ve never been called ‘evil’ before. Don’t you think that’s a _little_ over the top?” His voice had suddenly gone low and threatening. “Listen, you little shit, I am not in the mood for this crap. The person you should be screaming at is your ex, not me. Whether or not I’m pregnant is immaterial; what matters is whether Justin believes it, and clearly he does. _Now fuck off_!”

And that was when Brian had pushed Ethan backward and tried to slam the door in Ethan’s face. And that had been when Ethan had grabbed his arm and _pulled_ with every ounce of love and hate that he’d ever felt . . .

And now here’s Brian, lying awkwardly in Ethan’s arms, frothy blood forming on his lips.

He must’ve broken a rib that’d punctured a lung, Ethan thinks wildly. He unties Brian’s robe to try to ascertain whether he’s right, and that’s when he sees it. Brian’s belly. His taut, swollen belly . . .

. . . Brian really _is_ pregnant. The bottom falls out of Ethan’s world.


	10. Chapter 10

_Two Months Ago . . ._

Deb is humming. The sauce for the chicken parmesan is bubbling. Vic is reading the “Dear Abby” column out loud, mimicking her voice. The backdoor is open, letting in the first truly warm evening of spring. Best of all Sunshine’s coming over for dinner and finally bringing that cute new boyfriend of his.

Thank God Justin finally got away from Brian. Not that she doesn’t love Brian – he’s practically a second son – but he wasn’t good for Justin. Hell, he’s not good for Michael either. In fact, Deb thinks, Brian just really isn’t good for anyone, but it’s his own damn fault. He always behaves like an asshole even if, in his heart, he’s anything but. Maybe it was amusing when he was a kid but not any longer. Now it’s just self-destructive. He’s heading for a fall. Maybe not in the immediate future but somewhere down the road. He was, is, and will probably always be his own worst enemy.

Now Sunshine is different. Sunshine is going places. Maybe he’ll even leave Pittsburgh someday. He’s a tough kid, a smart kid, and damn talented too. Given the right influence and encouragement, he’s going to grow into a fine, strong man. Thank God he got away from Brian . . .

. . . but, shit, that night had been fucking awful. Walking out on Brian like that in front of everyone! It was unnecessarily cruel. And Brian’s face. Deb shakes her head. You’d think he’d just seen everything he had in life go up in flames. She’s never seen him look like that before and doubts she ever will again. Brian has closed in on himself since that night even more than he already was. It’s too bad he and Sunshine hadn’t split up in private. Maybe . . . maybe Brian wouldn’t be such a fucking mess these days, drinking himself to death and walking around with a perpetual fucking hang-over. She never would’ve imagined he’d ever let himself go like he has. People are talking. And she knows Sunshine notices. He hasn’t said anything, but Deb can’t imagine that he’s blind to Brian’s condition. It makes her want to smack Brian. It’s time for him to put on his big boy pants and stop trying to make Justin feel guilty. He needs to let go.

There’s a knock on the door, and Vic gets up to answer it. Deb finishes stirring the sauce and puts the lid on the pot so she can give Sunshine and that cutie of his big hugs. They both look a little awkward. It’s clearly time to serve up some food. Food is the very essence of home, and just as her home is Justin’s, it’s now Ethan’s as well.

“It’s so nice of you to invite us for dinner,” Justin says, sitting down in the chair he’d always sat in when he’d lived with her.

“Someone’s gotta put some meat on those bones of yours,” she says. “Ethan, sit down for heaven’s sake. Vic move over.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” Ethan says, smiling at Vic.

Such a nice kid, and what a smile! It’s almost as gorgeous as Sunshine’s. That’s something she could never say of Brian. He’s beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that. But he’s so fucking stingy with his smiles.

She shakes her head. Why the hell is she thinking about Brian? It’s weird. It almost feels like he’s a ghost hovering in the corner of the room.

It’s a lovely evening. Ethan loosens up after a heaping plate of pasta and starts talking about his music. He’s so talented! And clearly as smart as Justin . . . not to mention the same age.

When Ethan goes up to the bathroom, Justin starts clearing the plates and silverware despite Deb warning him that she’d smack him if he didn’t sit back down.

“Deb, I don’t mind,” he says. “It’s actually kind of nice having a table to clear. Ethan and I usually eat sitting on the floor.”

“Certainly not like life at the loft, is it?” she says, and then wishes she’d bitten her tongue when Justin looks away, the easy smile sliding off his face.

“Shit,” she says. “I can’t believe I had to mention that asshole. Habit from living with Michael.”

Justin sighs. “He’s not an asshole, Deb, and I know you don’t really believe it.”

She puts on her rubber gloves and starts cleaning the plates in the sink full of hot, sudsy water.

“You’re right,” she says after a while. “I don’t really believe that. I love Brian as much as I love all of you. It’s just . . . Jesus Christ, I’m so _sick_ of his shit.”

Justin takes the clean dishes and starts drying them. “What shit? I mean other than the usual kind,” he asks.

Deb shakes her head with irritation. “He’s just . . . Jesus Christ, you don’t know the trouble he’s causing between Michael and Ben. He can’t stand to be alone and has to drag Michael along with him every Goddamn place he goes.”

“I thought Michael was old enough to make his own choices,” Justin says with a trace of irritation in his voice.

“You’d think so,” she says. “But when it comes to Brian . . . well, you, yourself, know what a bully he can be.”

Justin doesn’t say anything. Deb takes his silence as agreement. She continues – “He seems even more clingy than usual.”

Justin laughs. “Brian? Clingy? Are we thinking of the same person?”

“You haven’t known him as long as I have,” Deb says. “He pretends to be a tough loner, but the truth is he can’t handle being alone. He was constantly here when he and Michael were in high school.”

“Maybe because he was trying to get away from his home,” Justin says. “He never told me much about it, but I got the sense that things with his parents were pretty bad.”

“They were. I won’t say they weren’t. He’d sometimes have a black eye to prove it, but Brian wasn’t an easy teenager. Drinking and smoking all the time like some hood from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserved to be hit by his own father.”

“No, he didn’t. I’m just saying that it explains things. Thank God in fucking heaven he’s never going to have kids of his own! Abuse gets handed down through a family. The father hits the son, and the son hits his own son and so on and so on.”

“But Brian has Gus. You’re not saying he’d ever hurt Gus, are you?”

“I’m not saying he’d want to. But violence can become an instinct. I mean look what he did to Michael at the girls’ party! He was a fucking animal!”

Justin wipes his hands and goes back to the table to sit down.

“I don’t know what was up with that,” he says. “It was really weird . . .”

“Like pissing on yours and Michael’s artwork? Brian needs to grow the fuck up. That’s what he needs to do!”

“Deb, please,” Justin says wearily. “Can we please not discuss Brian? We’re not together anymore. I’m trying to move on.”

Deb immediately feels guilty. She takes off her gloves and sits down next to Justin. “Sunshine, I’m sorry,” she says. “I know you’re trying to move on. I just wish Brian would too. I know I bitch about him, but . . . but, honey, I’m worried about him.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Justin says angrily. “I thought you were glad we broke up.”

Deb takes his hands and squeezes them in hers. “I _am_ glad,” she says. “And so is your mom. We’re all glad. Ethan’s a fine, young man, and he obviously loves you . . . shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

She’s suddenly feeling emotional. She stands up and goes back to the sink so that if she cries, Justin won’t see her. He’s right. She genuinely is glad he and Brian aren’t together anymore. Brian wasn’t good for him. Ethan is. But . . . but sometimes Brian looks so forlorn. So lost. She’s not used to seeing him that way. It’s upsetting. She wishes he had someone. Not Justin and definitely not Michael but someone. Yes, he has Lindsay, but like Michael, she has her own life. Brian needs someone who loves him but who won’t put up with his shit, someone he can’t boss around and manipulate.

Ethan comes back, and Deb shoves all thoughts of Brian out of her mind. She has a new family member to think of. Now if only she can get her new son to shave off that ridiculous beard thing of his. It looks like he’d been eating a rodent and some it got on his chin.

_The Present . . ._

Poor Sunshine. Poor Ethan. Jesus fucking Christ! That Brian Kinney! What a shitty thing to do – show up at their party pretending to be knocked up just to make Sunshine feel guilty! God, Deb has just about had it with him. It’s time for her visit him with another tuna casserole and try to talk some fucking sense into him. Pregnant! Of all the ridiculous things! As if anyone would actually believe Mr. fucking Toppty Top would get knocked up, let alone actually keep the baby if he did.

“Wow,” Teddy says when the door slams shut behind Justin as he goes running after Brian. “That was _really_ awkward.”

“Bangers and mash, anyone?” Emmett calls out with forced cheer from the table laden high with food that probably wouldn’t get eaten now. The second Justin got back, it’s obvious that Ethan’s going to want to go home. Who could blame him?

“Ethan, honey,” Deb says. “Why don’t you sit down? Can I get you more punch?”

Ethan neither answers nor moves. He’s still staring at the door.

“Well,” Vic says. “That was . . . quite a performance.”

“Hopefully Justin will punch his lights out,” Mel says. “It’s high time someone did.”

“Justin’s not going to punch his lights out,” Ethan says in a sad little voice. “They’re going to get back together.”

“After that fucking stunt Brian just pulled?!” Deb yells. “There’s no way Sunshine will get back together with him! Hell, he’ll probably never speak to Brian again, and it would serve the asshole right!”

“Uhm, Deb?” Teddy says, wincing. “Justin just came in.”

Deb claps her hand over her mouth. Everyone is silent, waiting for _something_ to happen, but Justin’s just standing there, looking dazed.

“Oh, honey,” Deb says, going to him and giving him a huge hug. “I’m so sorry he did that to you, that fucking ass . . .”

“Deb,” Justin says very calmly and quietly. “Brian is not a fucking asshole. We just had a . . . we just had a very important conversation.”

“Hopefully involving the words ‘get the fuck out of my life,’” Mel says.

Justin shakes his head. He’s slowly emerging from whatever confused state he’d been in. He’s starting to look . . . to look . . . to look fucking ecstatic!

“Oh my God!” he yells. “Holy fucking shit!”

He grabs Emmett’s hands and spins him around, laughing like a lunatic.

“Uhm, Justin?” Teddy says. “Are you going to fill us in on whatever the hell is going on?”

Justin stops spinning a shock-faced Emmett and struggles to catch his breath.

“I can’t,” he says. “I really can’t, but . . . fuck! I _really_ really wish I could!”

Everyone’s staring at him, including poor Ethan. Deb looks at him sadly. Whatever is going on cannot bode well for him.

“Sunshine,” she says. “You and Ethan should go home before you twirl anymore people around my living room.”

“Especially after they’ve just eaten three chocolate éclairs,” Emmett says with a burp. “You’re lucky you’re not wearing them, honey,” he says to Justin.

But Justin doesn’t reply. At the mention of Ethan’s name, the smile had disappeared from his face. He walks over and takes Ethan’s hand.

“We need to go back to your place,” he says.

“There’s the understatement of the year,” Mel says under her breath.

Deb watches Ethan nod and swallow and then nod again, and her heart breaks for him. Something had happened between Brian and Justin, something obviously huge. She doubts Justin will be on that plane tomorrow.

“That bastard,” she says angrily under her breath. “Sunshine, can I talk to you for just a moment before you two leave?”

Justin looks at her warily but nonetheless follows her upstairs and into Michael’s old bedroom.

“Whatever you’re going to say, Deb,” he whispers. “Don’t say it. You don’t know the full story.”

“Then you’d better damn well tell me,” she snaps.

Justin places a finger against his lips. “Sshhh, please. I don’t want there to be a scene.”

Deb puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. “A scene? Don’t you talk to me about ‘scenes,’ Sunshine. You just made an even bigger scene down there than Brian.”

He bites his lip. He’s obviously trying not to break out into a grin.

“And this is funny? I don’t see anything funny. I see a young man who loves you downstairs looking like he’s seen the ghost of fucking Christmas Past.”

Justin takes a deep breath. “You’re right,” he says. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to say sorry to.”

Justin looks at her and nods. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re not the one I need to say sorry to. The one I need to say sorry to is Brian.”

Deb boggles at him. Did she just hear him right? “Brian?!”

“Sshhhh, Deb! Please. Just trust me, okay? I’m going back to Ethan’s apartment . . .”

“You mean you’re going _home_.”

“No, I mean I’m going back to the apartment where I’ve been living with Ethan, and we’re going to talk. There are things he needs to know . . . really important things. And then after that, I’ll go home.”

“Let me guess,” she says. “Brian’s loft.”

Justin merely nods.

“What has he done to you?” Deb says, her eyes welling with tears as she reaches up and tucks a bit of hair behind his ear.

“Nothing, Deb. Brian’s done nothing. Please! You have to promise me you won’t try to talk to him tonight. He needs to rest. Please, I’m actually begging you. Trust me – there are things you don’t know, and they have to do with Brian, and . . . and he’s very vulnerable right now. Please just let him be.”

“Brian Kinney vulnerable? Please! He’ll be lucky if I don’t go over there and . . .”

“I swear to you that if you knew what I’m talking about that you would never in a million years go to his home and bitch him out.”

Deb rolls her eyes. “Okay, let me guess. He really is pregnant and needs to put his fucking feet up so his ankles won’t swell.”

Justin bites his lip again and looks everywhere except at her face.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ! Really? Sunshine of all people fell for this shit?! That’s it. Brian’s dog meat!

“Okay,” she says, patting his shoulder. “Now go home to _Ethan’s_ and we’ll talk in the morning. Just don’t tell your mother you’re not going to Europe in the state you’re in. She’ll commit you to the fucking loony bin.”

Justin grins and kisses her on the cheek. “Later, Deb,” he says and runs down the stairs.

She waits to hear everyone say good-bye to Justin and Ethan and then waits another minute after she hears the door close. Then she goes downstairs.

“Alright, everyone,” she says, clapping her hands. “There’s food to be eaten. I don’t have enough room in my freezer for fucking leftovers.”

She puts on her coat and sees Vic narrow his eyes. He walks up to her.

“And where are _you_ going? Don’t you think there’s been enough drama tonight?”

Deb pats his cheek. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think Sunshine’s about to screw up his life.”

Vic sighs. “Tell me you’re not going to Brian’s.”

“Don’t bother wasting your breath,” Deb says. “That’s exactly where I’m going. And this time without a fucking casserole. He doesn’t deserve one after the shit he just pulled.”

Vic just shakes his head. “Okay. Just . . . just don’t say anything you’ll regret later, Deb. I know you love Brian.”

“I used to love Brian,” she says. “Frankly I’m not sure if I still do.”

She stomps out the door and starts walking, but then she thinks better of it. The sky is starting to look like rain. Instead she turns and heads to the bus stop where she waits . . .

. . . and waits and waits and waits . . .

 _Finally_ the fucking bus comes, but then as luck would have it, there’s roadwork being done on 3rd avenue, and they have to wait in traffic for what feels like fucking _forever_. Deb taps her foot impatiently. Justin was probably breaking up with Ethan at that very moment. She needed to get to Brian’s as soon as possible and make him fix things.

The traffic had started moving, but the bus stops again when the driver hears sirens. The hell with it! She’s close enough to Brian’s building that she can get out here and walk the rest of the way. The driver is reluctant to let her off at a place that isn’t a bus stop, but as soon as he realized the scene she’s capable of making, he backs down and opens the door.

When she gets to Brian’s building, she’s surprised to see that the door’s propped open. It isn’t a great area, and people in Brian’s building are anal retentive as hell about keeping the front door locked. There’s also a small group of people hanging around, and they watch her as she goes in. She walks up the stairs slowly. Jesus Christ, she’s out of shape! But finally she reaches the last landing before the stretch of stairs leading up to Brian’s door . . .

. . . and that’s when she sees it.

The scene is so disturbing that at first she thinks she’s imagining it, but then Ethan starts sobbing her name.

“Deb, thank God you’re here,” he croaks as though he’s been yelling for hours. “I . . . I’m so scared!”

He _should_ be, Deb thinks as she looks at Brian and the state he’s in.

“Get out of the way!” she yells at Ethan who appears more than happy to obey. “Jesus Christ! Brian, sweetie! Jesus fucking Christ! What happened? No, don’t tell me. We don’t have time. Did someone call the fucking ambulance? Christ! He’s having a hard time breathing! Brian, honey, wake up!! C’mon, you’re tougher than this!”

She doesn’t know what to do, but it seems like Brian’s head should not be hanging off the top stair. She positions herself below him so she can prop him up a bit. Brian’s head flops back on her shoulder. Jesus! He’s going to die, she thinks. He’s going to die right here in my fucking arms! She keeps saying his name over and over, pleading with him to hang on and promising him that it’s going to be okay. He feels so heavy in her arms. She brushes the hair back from his forehead and kisses it.

“You’re going to be okay, kiddo,” she says. “You have so many people who love you. Just hang on, sweetie, hang on.”

She almost faints with relief when she finally hears sirens and the sound of people coming up the stairs. She moves out of the way when the first EMT gets there. He speaks into his walky-talky, telling someone to bring up a stretcher. When it arrives, the EMTs start moving Brian as carefully as possible.

“Was he conscious after he first fell?” one of them asks.

Ethan shakes his head. “He’s been like this the whole time.”

“Has he been moved at all?”

“Just a little bit,” Deb says. “Why the fuck are you asking questions?! There’s no fucking time! He needs to get to the hospital right now!”

“We’re going as fast as we can, ma’am,” the woman EMT says. “We don’t know if there are any spinal injuries, and we need to make sure the fetus isn’t harmed.”

“The _what_?!”

“The fetus. The injured party appears to be about four months pregnant. It looks like he’s broken some ribs. We need to make sure there aren’t shards that might puncture his internal organs.”

Deb collapses onto one of the stairs. She can no longer stand. She can barely even breathe. All she can do is watch the EMTS carefully put Brian on the stretcher and then carry him downstairs to the waiting ambulance.

“Do either of you want to ride with him?” one of the EMTs asks.

Deb looks at Ethan, but he shrinks against the wall of Brian’s building, shaking his head violently.

“I will,” she says. “And you,” she says to Ethan. “You need to tell Justin what’s happened _right the fuck now_! I don’t know why you’re here and he isn’t, and I’m not going to ask. But Justin must know that Brian . . . that Brian and his baby are in danger!”

But Ethan just stands there on the sidewalk frozen and deathly pale with shock. Deb would feel sorry for him, but there’s no room in her brain for anyone or anything except her fear for Brian and his baby. Just before she climbs into the ambulance, she goes over to Ethan and slaps him as hard as she can.

“Go. Get. Sunshine,” she says and then slaps him again in case she hadn’t made herself sufficiently clear.


	11. Chapter 11

_Three Days Ago . . ._

Justin presses his ear against the locked door, listening to Ethan’s footsteps as he runs down the stairs and then dashes to the window just in time to see Ethan get on his bike and peddle off. He doesn’t need a degree in fucking rocket science to know where Ethan’s going.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” he yells, scaring the poor cat. He runs over to his jacket where it hangs by the door. He has to call Brian and warn him that Ethan will probably show up sometime in the near future. He feels around in his pocket for his phone . . .

. . . But it’s not there! Shit! He must’ve left it at Deb’s!

“Fuck!” he yells again. He starts kicking and pounding on the door; he even finds a hammer and beats the shit out of the deadbolt. Nothing works. He’s trapped, and his very pissed-off ex-boyfriend is on the way to his soon-to-be-equally pissed-off pregnant boyfriend’s apartment!! It was _not_ a good combination.

Brian can take care of himself, Justin tells himself over and over. Yes, he’s pregnant, but he’s not an invalid. Plus, Ethan would never try to hurt Brian – he’s just going over there to give Brian a piece of his mind . . .

. . . But then Justin remembers how tired and wrung-out Brian had looked before he’d driven away. He’d looked on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. He’s probably trying to sleep, and Ethan’s going to wake him up. Jesus! If Justin should be worried about anyone, it should be Ethan! Brian is going to tear his head off! Ethan doesn’t deserve that. He’s innocent collateral damage. Justin doesn’t want this to turn into a complete nightmare. He just wants Ethan to leave on his tour so that he can be with Brian without a lot of drama. Justin is pretty convinced that drama is the _last_ thing Brian wants in his life. Plus, any stress he’s enduring might harm the baby. Justin doesn’t know anything about pregnancy, let alone male pregnancies, but it seems basic common sense that a parent’s stress cannot be good for a growing baby.

Fuck!

He paces and paces, kicking whatever is kickable. God, he wishes he had a fucking cigarette! He goes to the window and shoves it open. There’s no possibility of jumping; the apartment is too high up. If he didn’t kill himself, he’d break every bone in his body. That wasn’t going to help the situation to say the least.

It occurs to him to yell down to someone and tell them to call the police, but Brian would probably kill him. It would just add more drama on top of the already existing drama. Besides, it’s not like Ethan has a gun. Ethan’s upset, but he’s not a violent person. Plus, pregnant or not, Brian would kick his ass if there was a physical confrontation. Ethan wouldn’t be that stupid, and anyway, Brian would boot him out before things escalated too much. There was probably just going to be a lot of shouting, and afterward Brian will be grumpy as hell. Hopefully he’ll be asleep when Justin arrives. He doesn’t want to start out their new life together with a ripping fight.

God! Brian’s pregnant! It hits him again. Brian of all people is pregnant! And he’s keeping the baby! Justin feels ashamed when he realizes he would’ve sworn that Brian would get an abortion the second he found out about the baby. It makes him wonder how well he really knows Brian – what other things doesn’t he know? Brian’s pregnant – and with _his_ baby! God, what had Brian gone through after Justin dumped him? And, fucking God, what if the stress had made him lose the baby?! Would Brian ever have told him? Justin doubted very much that he would’ve. Brian would’ve gone through the experience totally alone. Justin feels his heart break. And there he’d been – showing up at Mel and Lindsay’s party with Ethan. Now it made sense why Brian had hit Michael! He was probably crazy from the pregnancy! And there people had been, calling him “a fucking animal” and telling him to go away. He must’ve thought he’d been banished forever just when he needed his friends the most. Even Lindsay had been angry. And what had he, himself, done? Nothing. Absolutely nothing even though he’d sensed something was going on – something serious. Yes, Michael had probably said something inappropriate – but for Brian to hit him? That had been unfathomable. Now it isn’t.

Then after that there’d been all those times that Ethan had come to the diner to walk him home. He’d even taken Ethan to Woody’s a couple of times and gone up to Brian and the gang to chat, holding Ethan's hand the whole time. All the whole time Brian was pregnant! It must’ve torn him up inside, and what made it even worse was that part of Justin had been doing it all out of revenge. He’d wanted to punish Brian for not telling him he loved him. God! No wonder Brian’s hand had always been straying to his belly as though Ethan’s presence had been a punch in the gut. No wondered he’d been a total shit, calling Ethan “Ian” and sneering at both of them. He must’ve felt cornered, attacked, hunted. And the ring! The fucking ring! Brian had noticed it right away. And all the while Justin’s baby was growing inside him! Justin wants to be furious that Brian hadn’t told him, but he isn’t. He’d treated Brian like shit. Brian was not going to reveal a vulnerability, even if that vulnerability is a pregnancy, and even though he’d probably known he’d needed help. Thank fucking God he’d had Lindsay!

Justin can’t bear his thoughts any longer. He sits down on the couch, feeling totally drained. How is Brian ever going to trust him? If Justin was in his shoes, he definitely wouldn’t. But he’s just going to have to suck it up no matter what Brian throws at him, no matter how big a fucking asshole he is. Justin is going to stand there and take it like a man. Whatever Brian does or says he deserves it. He just hopes for the baby’s sake that Brian doesn’t get too stressed out and angry. The baby had to come first for both of them. This isn’t just about them anymore, it’s about another person – another person who needs Brian to stay healthy and safe . . .

. . . Oh. Fucking. God! Justin leaps up and starts kicking the door again even though he knows it’s futile. He has to do _something_ to keep from going insane. But Ethan would never hurt Brian, right? _Right_?! He isn’t that kind of person. He’s a gentle soul. Yes, he’s angry and hurt, but he’s still Ethan, the man Justin could’ve maybe fallen in love with if he’d been able to get away from Brian for a while – if they’d gone on their trip together. God, what a fucking mess! And he’d handled it so badly, twirling Emmett around, laughing with joy right there in front of his boyfriend . . . Jesus, it was even worse than dumping Brian at the release party had been!

Christ! Ethan must be pissed beyond words . . . and he doesn’t believe Brian is pregnant. He doesn’t realize how exhausted Brian is . . .

. . . When he hears footsteps on the stairs Justin almost faints with relief. He backs up into the middle of the room, his heart pounding. The footsteps are so slow and heavy. Whatever had happened hadn’t gone well. He hears the key turn in the lock, but Ethan doesn’t open the door; Justin has to do it for him . . .

. . . What he finds scares the living shit out of him. Ethan’s face is ashen, and hair is even more unruly than usual. He looks like he might puke or that he already has. His eyes look dead. They look like they might never be alive again.

Justin’s blood goes cold. He hadn’t expected Ethan to look great when he got back – his face would probably be purple with rage. But it’s clear that Ethan isn’t angry. He’s in shock.

Brian. Something had happened to Brian.

Justin grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. Ethan feels like a ragdoll under his hands.

“Ethan!” Justin yells at him. “Brian . . . what happened? Tell me!”

Ethan just looks at him with those dead eyes. Justin shakes him again.

“Tell me, Ethan – did something happen to Brian? Is he okay? If you don’t answer me . . . if you don’t answer me, I swear to God I’m going punch your lights out!”

Ethan blinks and seems to come to life. “He . . . oh God, Just, you have to believe me . . . I didn’t mean to. I swear to _God_ I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Didn’t mean to what?! What didn’t you mean to do?!”

Ethan squeezes his eyes shut as though he’s trying to blot out a memory.

“He . . . Brian fell. He fell down the stairs. He . . . I couldn’t wake him up. I tried, but I couldn’t wake him up . . . and, oh, Just, I’m so sorry. I didn’t believe you, but you’d told me the truth. He really _is_ pregnant . . . the EMTs said he’s about four months along. I saw it myself. Oh my God! What if I killed him? What if I killed them both?!”

There’s only one thing Justin needs to know before he leaves.

“Is he alive?” he asks, his voice hoarse but oddly calm. It’s the calm of shock, of his body kicking into necessary action mode.

Ethan merely nods, but that’s all Justin needs. He charges down the stairs. Alleghany General. That’s where Brian will be. If he bikes, it’ll take him almost an hour . . . if he takes a bus, it might take even longer . . . and he can’t call Lindsay either. She lives on the total opposite end of the city . . .

. . . He does something insane – something completely bat shit insane. He runs to the corner of the street where there’s a four way stop and pounds on the window of the first passing car. He must look crazy, definitely not someone you’d want in your car. But it’s not a car. It’s a pick-up truck. The guy must be a painter. There’s a logo on the passenger side door and cans and a ladder in the back. To Justin’s relief, he rolls down the window.

“What’s up, kid?” he asks with surprising unconcern.

“My boy . . . my friend,” Justin says panting. “He had an accident. He might die. I have to get to the hospital . . .”

“Which one?” the guy asked.

“Alleghany . . . please, sir, I’m begging you.”

The guy chuckles. “Sir huh? Not often I get called ‘sir.’ Get in. But it’s going to have to be the back. I’ve got too much shit on the passenger seat . . .”

Justin doesn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence. He leaps into the back of the truck and the guy drives away. Fortunately, he’s one of those people who think the rules of the road don’t apply to him, and they get to Allegheny in what must be record time.

Justin leaps out to the truck and goes over to the driver’s side.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I can’t even tell you how . . .”

The guy smiles. “Shut up and get going.”

Justin doesn’t wait another second. He runs to the doors. They seem to take a million years to open. Finally they do and he’s running down the corridor leading to the ICU. A security guard tries to stop him when he bursts into the waiting room, but one look at Justin’s face must’ve convinced him to just let him go.

The first thing Justin notices is a large woman with clown-red hair and loud colored clothes. For a fraction of a second, he doesn’t recognize her. When he does he runs over to her almost careening into her before he can stop

“Deb!” he yells. “Brian!”

“Oh, Sunshine,” she says bursting into tears. She goes to hug him, but Justin back away.

“Is he okay, Deb? I have to know. Is Brian alive?!”

She nods. “Yes, praise God. He’s alive.”

He collapses in the nearest chair, shaking from the adrenaline rush that’d started the second he’d left Ethan’s apartment.

Deb sits down beside him. From the sorry state of her make-up, it obvious she’s been crying.

“Is he going to be okay?” Justin asks. “Is the . . . is Brian going to be okay?”

Again she nods and then takes his hand. “Yes, the doctors say he’s going to be okay . . . and so will the baby.”

Justin’s jaw drops.

“I know about it,” Deb says. “After you left, I went over to Brian’s to chew him out and found him lying on the landing at the base of the stairs. I swore at the EMTs because they seemed to be taking too long to get him onto the stretcher, and that’s when I found out. One of the EMTs said they had to be careful because . . . because Brian is pregnant. Oh, Sunshine . . .” she breaks into tears. “I am so _so_ sorry.”

Justin wants to say “sorry’s bullshit,” but Deb wouldn’t be able to take it. She’s in shock herself. In fact, she’s so much in shock that she hadn’t used one swear word since Justin had gotten there! It was deeply unnerving – even more unnerving than her sobs.

“I’m not the one whom people need to apologize to,” he says.

“I know, I know,” she replies. “But you tried to tell me not to upset him . . .”

Justin squeezes her hand _hard_. “Stop it,” he says fiercely. “Just stop it. If you _hadn’t_ gone to bitch him out, you wouldn’t have found him . . . who would’ve called 911?”

“Ethan was there. Ethan had already called 911,” she says.

Justin’s closed his eyes with a sudden sick-feeling weariness. Ethan must’ve done something. Ethan must’ve pushed Brian down the stairs.

“I’ve . . . I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” he says, pulling his hands out of Deb’s.

He barely makes it to the bathroom in time. As soon he locks the stall door, he throws up.

_The Present . . ._

Brian’s voice is still raspy, but he can speak coherently enough that everyone can understand him. Finally. They’d finally disconnected him from the ventilator. As soon as they did, Brian – unsurprisingly – launched into a profanity laden tirade. He must’ve been composing it his mind for days.

“God fucking damn it! What the fuck?! Emmett, Theodore, as soon as my arm is better, I’m going to punch both of you. Fucking balloons? Fucking _Sponge Bob_ balloons?! I have been fucking forced to stare at them fucking bobbing around day in and day fucking out!”

Emmett and Ted snicker and then cough and look around.

“It’s not fucking funny!” Brian yells. “You’re assholes! You’re all assholes! Fucking _flowers and teddy bears_?! I hate you – all of you!”

Now everyone’s cracking up. Some of what Brain is saying is genuinely funny, but mostly everyone is laughing because they’re so relieved. Brian Kinney is back in all his glory.

Brian’s glaring, but Justin knows he’s secretly pleased that everyone has made such a fuss over him. He’d never been alone for a second. Everyone had been watching him in shifts. Even Mel.

“You’re a bunch of fucking lesbians – literal _and_ figuratively! All the men in this room are going have to show me your dicks before I’ll believe you still have one!”

Now people have tears in their eyes they’re laughing so hard.

“You think I’m kidding,” Brian says. “You morons. Did you think I’d be stuck in this fucking bed for the rest of my life? You’ve all put my sanity in danger and thus now so are your lives!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Deb says. “Shut the hell up, Brian.”

“Yeah,” Ted says. “I would’ve thought you were thinking deep, meaningful thoughts this whole time. Instead you were coming up with a thousand ways to ream us out. I’m very disappointed.”

“What makes you think I couldn’t think deep thoughts _and_ ways to insult you at the same time?” Brian says. “You underestimate my multi-tasking skills, Theodore.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Deb says. “All of you, out! The ungrateful asshole and Sunshine need some alone time.”

“I think the hospital probably has a ‘no fucking’ rule,” Ted says.

“That’s never stopped him before,” Emmett replies.

“Get out!” Deb yells at them. “Shoo, you assholes!”

She’s the last one to leave. She signals Justin to come over to her.

“Are you going to tell him I know?” she whispers.

“I don’t know yet,” he whispers back. “I need to see how this goes. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

She kisses his cheek. “Good luck,” she says. “Don’t forget his brain is saturated with hormones. I speak from experience.”

Justin smiles at her and she leaves. He walks back to Brian’s bed and sits down beside it. He has no idea what Brian is about to say, but whatever it is, Justin’s going to sit there and ride it out.

For a minute, Brian just looks at him.

“The baby’s okay,” he says.

“I know,” Justin replies. “The doctors told me. I said I was the father.”

“No blowback?”

“Surprisingly not.”

“This fucking rib is going to be a problem.”

“We’ll work with it.”

“My fucking luck. I’m pregnant _and_ an invalid.”

“You’re _not_ an invalid. In fact, you’re so not an invalid, I expect you to be walking on your treadmill as soon as you get home.”

“You _expect_ me? That’s a bit cheeky, don’t you think?”

“That’s me. Cheeky. Deal with it.”

Brian smiles at him.

“You realize that if you make me walk on my treadmill, you’re going to have to blow me afterward.”

“No problem. Getting blown regularly will be part of your exercise regime.”

“So . . . are you going to tell me that Deb knows?”

Justin winces and waits for the shouting. It doesn’t come.

“Yeah, she knows. She was there when the EMTs arrived. They told her.”

Brian laughs and then swears. “Fucking rib . . . alright. I’ll deal with it. So what’s the list now?”

“Me. Lindsay, Deb . . . and Ethan.”

Brian just looks at him.

“Brian, I know something happened. I know it wasn’t an accident.”

“You don’t know shit,” he replies. “Besides, I don’t remember what happened. All I remember is opening the door to him. That’s it.”

“Bullshit,”

Brian glares at him. “Leave it, Justin.”

“ _Leave it_?! What do you mean ‘leave it’?”

“I mean leave it,” Brian snaps.

“So you’re not going to tell the cops anything. You’re going to tell them you don’t remember anything that happened that night.”

“Yup. You got it. You’re a smart kid, Sunshine. Hopefully that canniness gets passed on to our daughter.”

“Our _daughter_?! Holy shit, Brian! How long have you known? When were you going to fucking tell me?”

“Don’t be a twat. I couldn’t talk, remember.”

“You could’ve written it.”

“I broke my right arm. I can’t hold a pencil.”

His eyes are gleaming with mischievous glee. He’s a total asshole, and Justin tells him so.

“You are so full of shit.”

“No, I’m full of baby and hormones and who the hell knows what else. Don’t poke the bear, Sunshine.”

“A daughter. Holy shit! What do we know about raising a girl?”

The glee vanishes from Brian’s face, and his eyes turn hard. “We don’t need to know anything,” he says. “Because we’re not keeping her.”

Justin’s jaw drops. Never in a million years had he imagined the possibility that Brian was going to give the baby away!

“Oh yes we are,” Justin says. He’s _furious_. Absolutely fucking furious. “Besides that’s not your choice to make. I will _never_ agree to sever my parental rights!”

Brian tries to sit up, but he cries out in pain and flops back down.

“You . . .” he says venomously. “Have _no_ right to tell me what to do. _I’m_ the one carrying this baby. _I’m_ the one who’s going to have to have my organs removed to get her out. You’d better remember, Justin . . . you had better fucking _remember_ that you dumped me . . . you dumped _us_.” He places his hand on his belly. “You threw everything I’d given you in my face. And then you rubbed it in.”

“You never fucking told me!” Justin yells. “You never told me you’re pregnant, Brian. I would never have left you if you’d just fucking told me!”

Justin hadn’t thought it was possible, but Brian’s eyes grow even colder.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you – and maybe I _still_ don’t. If the only reason you’re sitting here right now and not traipsing around Europe with the fiddler is because I’m pregnant . . . if that’s the only fucking reason . . . then get the fuck out of my sight and out of my fucking life.”

Brian might as well have ripped his heart out with his bare hand. Justin can hardly breathe, let alone speak.

“Brian,” he says. “Brian . . . Jesus fucking Christ . . . Brian!”

He swallows back sobs. Hadn’t he anticipated this conversation? No, he hadn’t imagined that Brian would want to give away the baby, but hadn’t he foreseen the possibility that Brian would believe that he only loved the baby, not him? Yes, he had, so he knew exactly what he’s going to say. He takes a deep breath and starts again.

“I _never_ stopped loving you, Brian. Not for one second. There happens to be room in my heart for more than just one person, no matter how much I love that person . . .”

Brian tries to turn his back, but there’s an IV in his arm. All he can do is grip his blanket with his left hand and glare as though looks really _could_ kill.

“That’s right. Suck it up. It’s true for you, too, and you’d see that if you pulled your head out of your ass. That’s life, Brian. There’s a very important difference between you and Ethan though. I never loved Ethan. I cared about him; I was attracted to him; I enjoyed being with him, but I _never_ fell in love with him. I love many people, but I’ve only _fallen in love_ with one person, and that person is you . . .”

“You left me,” Brian says in a little voice that makes Justin want to die. Hormones, he keeps saying to himself. Brian is just one, big, giant hormone. If he’s acting strangely, it’s just because of the hormones.

Nonetheless, even if his voice was little and unhappy, it didn’t mean that what he said isn’t true.

“Yeah, I did,” he says frankly.

“And you might’ve never come back.”

“You’re right. I might never have come back.”

“But you are, and it’s because of the baby. What happens when I give her away? Will you still love me then? Or is it all about her? I need to know, Justin.”

“I’m going to be angry with you for the rest of my life if you give her away, but, Brian, even if I can’t live with you, I will _always_ love you. That’s going to have to be enough.”

Brian doesn’t try to wipe away the tears trickling from the corners of his eyes, so Justin does it for him.

“Now, do you want a family or not?” Justin asks. “Do you want me and our daughter or do you want to live alone for the rest of your life? That’s your choice, Brian.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t think straight,” Brian says, his voice catching on his words. “I don’t know what I want . . . I can’t . . . this damn baby is fucking with my head. How can I want a fucking baby, Justin? She’ll ruin my life . . .”

“She won’t ‘ruin’ your life,” Justin says. “She’ll change it . . . and nothing will ever be the same again, but that doesn’t mean she’ll _ruin_ it.”

“And what about you? You’re fucking nineteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. Do you really want to be saddled with a fucking kid?”

“Yeah, I do. I do want to be saddled with a fucking kid. I also want to be saddled with a fucking asshole, who, by the way, if there is any doubt, is you. Don’t fucking make my decisions for me. Would you ever have let anyone do that to you when you were my age? No, don’t answer that question; I already know the answer, and the answer is ‘no,’ so fuck you, Brian, you fucking hypocrite. Just because what I want is different from what you wanted when you were my age doesn’t make my dreams any less valid – any less important than yours.”

Brian stares at him. For a really _really_ long time. Justin takes that as a good thing.

“Can I wait till she’s born and then make up my mind whether to put her up for adoption?”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you actually don’t have choice. I’m keeping her, and you can’t stop me. The only choice you do have is whether you want to help raise her with me. That’s it, Brian. So I’ve turned the tables on you, haven’t I? You asked me if I was only staying with you because of the baby. Well, I’m now asking you whether you love your life like it is more than you love me?”

Brian looks like he’s been hit with a stun gun. Justin would’ve laughed except the situation really wasn’t funny.

“So is it Babylon, Brian? Or is it me? And if you choose me you have to know that you’re also choosing your daughter.”

More tears slip down Brian’s temples. This time Justin doesn’t wipe them away.

“Can I . . . can I think about?” he asks.

“Actually, no. You can’t,” Justin replies. “Because if I think that it’s a hard choice for you, then I don’t want you in my life. I’ll love you, but I won’t want you. It shouldn’t be a hard choice, Brian. It should be fucking clear as day.”

Brian closes his eyes wearily, and Justin’s heart sinks. It looks like Brian thinks he’s been strong-armed and defeated. But then Justin remembers – this is Brian he’s dealing with. Brian doesn’t get strong-armed . . . and he doesn’t get defeated. He just gets tired. That’s all, which shouldn’t be a surprise – after all, he’s pregnant. Justin needs to keep reminding himself of that fact.

When Brian opens his eyes again, he confirms all of Justin’s convictions. Brian Kinney doesn’t get strong-armed and he doesn’t get defeated.

“I want you,” he says. “And if that means wanting to keep our daughter, then I want that too.”

His hand drifts to his belly.

He’s an idiot, Justin thinks, if he believes for a second that he hasn’t wanted to keep her all along. He was simply scared . . . he’d been alone and scared.

He didn’t have to be scared anymore, because he was never going to be alone again.

Justin stands and leans over so he can kiss Brian’s lips. Brian returns the kiss without hesitation. This time Justin gets it. He finally fucking gets it . . .

Brian had just said “I love you.”


	12. Chapter 12

_A Week Ago . . ._

Every now and again, Brian feels a sharp pain in his abdomen. Depending on how intense it is, he’ll either merely lean against something or he’ll need to sit down. But the bursts of pain have pretty much dwindled into brief periods of discomfort. He’s healing quickly and well, which means he can now pick up Ayn and not have to get Justin to do it for him.

Today is a big deal. Today is the day they’re going to introduce Ayn to the outside world and the family members who haven’t met her yet – who don’t even know she exists and, for that matter, who didn’t even know Brian had been pregnant in the first place.

Brian hopes she isn’t cranky. She’s a total pain in the ass when she’s cranky. He leans over to pick her up from her crib. She just chews on her fist and looks at him. It doesn’t seem like a meltdown is imminent, but who knew for sure? They’ve had her two months, but she’s still a total mystery to them. It doesn’t matter how many books they read and websites they consult, when it comes down to it, they don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing. Fortunately, Ayn’s pediatrician assures them that _all_ first-time parents feel the same way and it’s not because they’re two men dealing with a female infant.

_Babies all cry a lot, no matter the gender, he’d said. Girls aren’t substantively different from boys in that regard. Besides, the amount of crying you say she’s doing is not at all outside the normal range._

God, Brian often thinks. How do parents survive with a baby that _is_ outside the normal range? He’d fucking lose it. It’s a damn good thing he thinks Ayn, no matter how much she screams, is the most perfect baby that ever existed in the history of the world or he’d try to return her to the damn cosmic department store she came from.

“That taste good?” he asks her. “Perhaps you’d like some formula to go with your fist. Justin! Heat-up a bottle! I think she’s hungry!”

“She’s _not_ hungry!” he yells back. “I just fed her before I put her down!”

Along with the screaming, the yelling is also a new development in their lives. They haven’t yet gotten the hang of communicating in a space with actual rooms.

“Besides, we’re late! We’ll bring a bottle with us! It’ll be useful if she gets fussy!”

“Are you going to get fussy?” Brian asks her. “Please say you’re not going to get fussy, although there’ll be some women there and I can pawn you off on them so they can satisfy their screaming baby-lust.”

He kisses her nose, and she presses her spit-wet hand on his nose and squeezes. Brian has stopped finding it gross even if stuff like that has not yet become endearing.

Justin has already dressed her in Brian’s favorite outfit – a green, dragon-shaped onsie with triangular, yellow, felt spines down the back. He carries her downstairs.

“Have you decided on the car seat or the pouch?” Justin asks, checking Ayn’s bag to make sure they have everything.

“The pouch,” Brian says. “It’ll be funnier. They’ll see her right away in the car seat, but it’ll take them a moment or two to figure out I have a baby in a pouch. Just try to keep people from shrieking. I’ve had more than enough shrieking to last me a lifetime, plus we don’t want the little terror to get all wound up.”

Justin shakes his head disapprovingly. “I wish you’d stop calling her that.”

“Why? It’s a term of endearment. Plus it's an accurate description.”

Justin rolls his eyes and takes Ayn away from him – an action that causes a momentary crisis. Ayn doesn’t like to be separated from Brian.

They’d been alerted early on that for some reason babies born to same-sex couples are unusually attached to the parent who bore them. Brian was concerned that would be hard for Justin, but so far Justin has been rolling with it, merely shrugging when she cries and reaches out for Brian when he’s holding her. But as long as Brian is in the room, it’s stopped being a problem. It’s only when he leaves the room that she freaks out. It’s unnerving. Brian loves her and loves being around her – for the most part – but he also wants to go back to work. They’d decided Justin will be the primary caretaker, but so far that has been problematic because of Ayn’s attachment anxiety. But Brian’s not panicking yet. He has no intention of going back to work for at least three more months. Ayn isn’t the only one with attachment issues. They’d been warned about that too.

They’d also been alerted before she was born that she was going to look more like Brian than Justin, and she does. In fact, it’s uncanny how much she looks like him. Brian actually wishes she had some of Justin in her – like his blue eyes for example – but she doesn’t, and Justin’s been rolling with that too. He’s just so happy to have her.

“Time to go?” Brian asks. “Got all her crap?”

“All crap accounted for,” Justin replies. He puts Ayn in her car seat and straps her in. He then gives her a stuffed animal that Brian has been sleeping with for weeks. It smells like him, and having it chills her out a bit if Brian gets outside her comfort zone.

They walk out of the house and down the front steps. It’s still weirding Brian out that he no longer lives on a top floor requiring an elevator. It’s not entirely comfortable living so close to a street that they need bars on the ground-floor windows to prevent break-ins. He can’t tell, though, whether it would freak him out as much if he didn’t have Ayn. Maybe his discomfort is related to her and not himself. But despite his slight discomfort about the street and the barred windows, they’d snapped up the attached brownstone the instant it came on the market. It’s in a neighborhood that’d recently been gentrified by gay men, so there aren’t breeders walking around all the time. Brian doesn’t feel like he’s sold-out. It’d been really important to him that he not live in a place that could be even remotely described as suburban. Their next door neighbors are also a male couple with a kid, which is kind of nice – it’s even nicer that they’re a couple of huge, hairy, leather-clad bears. It amuses Brian no end when he sees them out walking their baby in a stroller.

The house is also perfect because the whole third floor is a loft with big windows and a lot of light. Justin hadn’t been at all happy about the barred windows, but the loft had him at “hello.” It’s the perfect space for an artist; in fact the former owners had both been painters. (Jesus, Brian thinks. A couple comprised of two artists – now that was a train wreck just waiting to happen.) Neither of them was crazy about the first and second floors, but the architect they’d hired to look at the place before they’d bought it assured them that they’d be able to knock out a few walls. They’re working on a blueprint, but they’re stalling because neither of them is thrilled about the idea of adding construction noises to Ayn’s caterwauling.

Justin puts Ayn in the backseat of the Jeep, and they head for the restaurant where Brian had rented a banquet room. They’d sent out invitations with the cryptic message: “Wait till you see what we brought home!” followed by nothing but a date, time and place. Everyone they’d invited said they’d be there. It’s going to be quite a crowd.

They’d just returned from San Francisco, which, unsurprisingly, is ground zero for male pregnancies. In fact, there was an entire community set up for the sole purpose of giving pregnant men and their partners a place to live outside the reach of prying eyes as well as providing specialized medical care. As soon as Brian had gotten to the point when he could no longer hide his pregnancy, they’d gone to California where they’d resided for the rest of Brian’s pregnancy, Ayn’s birth, and Brian’s subsequent recovery. The only thing that people back in the Pitts know is that Brian is taking a leave of absence from work and he and Justin were using the time to travel the world. They’d promised to call and email now and then to let everyone know where they were and how they were doing. Every single person (even Lindsay and Deb), right down to Justin’s mom, had totally bought the whole thing.

They’d been home for a couple weeks, long enough to find a house and settle into it. Now it was time for Ayn to have her debut. Justin was starting to feel really guilty that they were back in Pittsburgh and he hadn’t seen Jennifer yet, let alone told her she’s a grandma. Brian is ready to reveal her too. He’s starting to get antsy to go to the gym. It’s time.

They pull up to the restaurant and park near the side door. They get Ayn out of her car seat and put her in the pouch strapped to Brian’s chest. She coos with delight, and Brian feels himself get all gooey and mushy, which is dangerous because, well, new dad or not, he still has a reputation to maintain. He kisses her head, Justin slings her bag over his shoulder, and they go in.

They’d planned to arrive about twenty minutes late so that everyone would already be there. Hopefully that’s what’d happened. They pause just outside the doorway and grin at each other with big, giant, shit-eating grins. Justin takes a deep, shaky breath, and Brian whispers a reminder in his ear that all of this is going to be fucking hilarious.

When they walk into the room, everyone’s clearly torn between being thrilled to see them and annoyed that they’re so late. 

“You two are lucky there’s any food left!” Michael yells at them, but he’s so happy to see Brian that it looks like he’s vibrating.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Deb shrieks. “You throw a party and then you fucking show up late!”

Ayn’s pouch is a non-descript maroon color, so it’s taken them awhile to notice that Brian’s carrying something . . . but now it’s starting to sink in. The room goes completely silent. Clearly no one wants to be the first one to say “Oh my God, is that a _baby_ you’re carrying?!” They all still remember Brian’s little prank and are understandably skeptical.

Justin is grinning like a lunatic. They’d decided he’d be the first to speak.

Deb is the first to figure it out. “Oh my God!” she shrieks. “Is that . . . ?”

“Just a minute, Deb,” Justin says. “Hold your horses. Hello, everyone. It’s so great to see you all again. Brian and I have been very busy for the past few months – _especially_ Brian. It’s been an exciting time – so exciting in fact that we decided to bring back a very special souvenir.”

That was Brian’s cue to take off his jacket so that Justin can lift Ayn out of her pouch.

It feels like a giant vacuum cleaner has sucked all the air out of the room.

“Now let’s get something straight right off the bat,” Brian says. “Before you all start pawing and drooling all over her, I want you to know her name. It’s ‘Ayn’ but not ‘a’ ‘n’ ‘n.’ Her name is spelled ‘a’ ‘ _y_ ’ ‘n.’ Ayn as in Ayn Rand.” He grins mischievously. Justin hadn’t been thrilled, but he’d acquiesced in the end, agreeing that despite the source of her name, it’s as beautiful as she is.

“Uhm, Bri?” Ted says. “Is that a baby?”

Ayn makes a gurgelly sound and stuffs her fist in her mouth again.

“It is indeed,” Justin says. And she’s not just _any_ baby. She’s _our_ baby. Mine and Brian’s. You’ll see she looks exactly like him – that’s because Brian carried and gave birth to her.”

Deb and Lindsay had agreed to stand in the far back so as not to clue people in, but Deb just can’t stay still a second longer. She knows about Ayn, but she hasn’t seen her yet.

“Let me see her! Let me see her!” she shrieks, shoving past everyone. “Out of my way!” She slows down just in time to stop herself from plowing into Justin. He holds Ayn out to her, and Deb takes her gently, carefully in her arms as though Ayn is somehow more fragile than “regular” babies. Brian’s slightly annoyed, but figures the silver lining is that the less jostling there is the less likely Ayn will go postal.

“Oh my God,” Deb says. Tears fill her eyes. “She . . . she’s fucking _gorgeous_! Oh, Brian, honey, she’s perfect! And you, too, Sunshine, of course, but you, Brian Kinney,” she says. “You are fucking _amazing_! Jennifer! Come hold your granddaughter!”

And that’s when people go bananas! Absolutely fucking bananas!

“A baby!!” Emmett shrieks.

“Named after a fascist,” Ted adds.

“Now, now, Theodore,” Brian says. “Ayn Rand was not a fascist. She was just right about everything and it annoys bleeding hearts like you.”

“Brian, shut up,” Cynthia says. “Wow! Now I know why you took time off. Although I’m really pissed that you deprived me of the opportunity to see you so fat you couldn’t see your toes. That would’ve been very gratifying . . .”

“. . . for _all_ of us,” Ted says. “Congratulations, Bri. That _is_ what we’re supposed to say, right?”

“No,” Brian drawls. “You’re supposed to say, ‘I’m so very sorry this happened to you – how horrible it is that you and Justin are stuck with the most perfect, most beautiful baby that ever existed in the history of babies.’”

“I still can’t believe this isn’t a joke,” Emmett says. “How in the world were you able to keep the secret from us? I'd be busting at the seams - literally and figuratively.”

“It was a close call for me,” Justin replies. “But then I was reminded that I was living in close quarters with the crabbiest, bitchiest person alive. Believe me, what he wanted was the rule of the land.”

“And that’s different in what way exactly?” Vic asks. “Congratulations, you two. If I could get within two feet of her, I’d tell you how beautiful she is, but the crowd is intimidating.”

“Any crowd is intimidating when Deb's at the center of it,” Brian replies. “Hey, Deb, stop monopolizing the kid!”

“I’m waiting for Jennifer,” she says. “No one else gets to hold her before she does.”

Everyone looks around for Justin’s mom. She’s still standing next to her chair, holding onto the back. She looks like she’s in shock. Brian reaches for Justin’s hand.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “She’s going to be fine.”

Finally, when she realizes everyone’s waiting for, she walks over to Deb looking so wobbly and unsteady on her feet that Brian worries she might collapse. Everyone steps back so that she has a clear view of her granddaughter in Deb’s arms. Ayn is just looking at her with Brian’s calm, mildly curious gaze. Brian shivers. It still freaks him out that Ayn looks so much like him.

“My God,” Jennifer breathes. “I . . . I . . . Justin, _how_ could you have kept all of this from me; I’m your _mother_ , for God’s sake!”

Brian steps forward, his hand still tightly holding Justin’s.

“It was my choice, Jennifer,” he says. “Justin really didn’t have a say in the matter. I simply wouldn’t let him, so if you’re feeling angry right now, I’m the person you should be angry at, not him.”

Jennifer wrenches her gaze away from Ayn’s face and turns it on Brian.

“You . . . God, I don’t even know what to say, Brian.”

“How about ‘congratulations,’” Justin says. There are tears in his voice. Brian gives his hand a squeeze.

“She is Justin’s, right?” she asks. There’s no meanness in her voice, just shock and bafflement.

Brian snorts. “Oh, believe me. Justin is _definitely_ Ayn’s dad. He’s the only man who’s had his cock in my ass in a decade.”

“Brian!” Lindsay says. “For heaven’s sake.”

But Brian’s now officially annoyed. Frankly, it’s a source of stress for him that Ayn doesn’t look like Justin even though they’d been told by the specialist at the hospital in San Francisco that she wouldn’t. It’s just the way things were with male pregnancies.

“Well apparently there needed to be some confirmation,” he drawls.

Everyone is now officially uncomfortable. Deb hands Ayn to Lindsay and goes to Jennifer, but Jennifer doesn’t seem to notice. Her gaze has now shifted to Justin, who now has tears running down his face.

That’s it. That is fucking it.

“Give her to me,” he snaps. “Justin, we’re out of here.”

He takes Ayn away from Lindsay too roughly, and she starts to cry, which turns Brian’s irritation into full-blown anger. Daphne quickly walks up to them and hugs Justin close. Brian can hear her whisper in his ear.

“Congratulations,” she says. “She’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to have the chance to spend some time with her. Just, go easy on your mom. Springing this on her in public might not have been the best idea.” She kisses his cheek and steps back.

Brian has never been so grateful of a kind gesture in his life. He turns to Justin.

“Party over,” he says.

Justin nods. They turn around to leave. Ayn is still crying, and Brian is trying to refrain from have a full-blown fit.

“Wait!” Jennifer cries. “Please, don’t go!”

Brian wants to whirl around and give her a piece of his mind, but then he remembers that this is Justin’s mother. He literally bites his tongue and starts bouncing Ayn gently in his arms.

“Shhhh,” he whispers to her. “It’s okay. Your daddies are okay.”

She calms down a little bit, but is still sniffing pathetically. Brian can practically hear Justin’s heart break.

“Here,” he whispers. “Why don’t you take her.”

“But she’ll cry more if I take her away from you,” Justin replies. “It’ll just make everything worse.”

“If she does, it’ll still be worth it. Your mom needs to see that Ayn is as much yours as mine. I’m the one she’s angry at, not you.”

He hands Ayn over to Justin. To his great relief, she merely lets out a little squawk. Brian takes her hand, and she immediately calms down when she closes her fingers around one of his. He leans down to kiss her tiny knuckles, and that’s when Lindsay breaks into tears.

Goddamn it.

“Lindz, please,” he says.

“I can’t . . . can’t help it,” she sobs. “I saw . . . I was there while you went through hell.”

“It was never ‘hell,’” Brian replies. “It was just a major pain in the ass. Now, stop it or leave.”

Mel walks over and pulls Lindsay into her arms, rubbing her back. She gives Brian a wan smile. Brian returns it.

Justin is bouncing Ayn, and she snuggles against him.

Thank you, baby girl, Brian thinks. Thank you so much. This whole thing is breaking his heart for Justin, and he’s starting to feel guilty for demanding that Justin not tell his mother about the pregnancy. He hates feeling guilty.

“Look, Jennifer,” he says. “I’m tired, and Ayn’s probably getting hungry. We’re leaving. When you’re ready to accept this situation, give us a call and we’ll arrange a visit.”

He picks up Ayn’s bag and walks out the door. Apparently that’s what needed to happen because he hears Jennifer burst into tears.

“Oh, Justin, sweetie,” she says brokenly. “She’s so _so_ beautiful.”

“Do you want to hold her?” Justin asks.

Brian stiffens instinctually and then chides himself. This was Ayn’s grandmother. She may be wigged out, but she would never ever take it out on the baby.

“Yes,” Jennifer says. “I want to hold her.”

“Please don’t be upset if she starts to cry,” he pleads. “She gets agitated when Brian’s not in the same room.”

“Christ,” she says. “I can’t imagine how hard all of this must be on you.”

Brian rolls his eyes, but he waits on pins and needles for Justin’s response.

“The doctors told us about this ahead of time, mom,” he says. “It’s not like Brian is trying to exclude me or anything like that. It’s just the way things are. Please stop being angry at him. I need you two to get along. Please don’t make me choose, because you already know the outcome, and it breaks my heart to think Ayn won’t get to know her grandmother and vice versa.”

There’s a long silence finally broken by the boys starting a banal conversation between each other.

“Did you try the veggie dip?” Ted asks. “It’s a little aggressive?”

“Aggressive?” Emmett says. “Who calls a dip ‘aggressive’?”

“Clearly Ted does,” Michael replies. “How about we try out the cheese platter?”

“So, what do you think of my new shirt? Neither of you have said anything,” Emmett says, with feigned disappointment.

“Because nobody wanted to hurt your feelings,” Michael replies.

They move beyond Brian’s earshot, but he can still hear the background noise of their banter. Thank God. He was going to buy them all girly cocktails the next time they go to Woody’s together.

“I would never make you choose,” Brian hears Jennifer say. “I’d be horribly disappointed if you chose me over your . . . over your family.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Deb says.

“Debbie,” Vic says warningly. “It’s time to leave Jennifer and Justin alone.”

Deb grumbles but she obeys.

“How is she?” Jennifer asks. “She seems small . . . was she born prematurely?”

“She’s fine,” Justin replies. “Brian was almost at nine months, so the fact she was born a little early wasn’t at all a problem. We’d been ready for it – apparently all babies born to men are on the small side. Ayn was right, smack in the middle of average.”

“And she’s eating and sleeping okay?”

“She’s fine, Mom. “We’re not fucking up . . . although it would be really nice to have your and Deb’s help now and then. But I . . . I don’t want you around if you can’t accept Brian. I know you wanted me to stay with Ethan, but I didn’t and I don’t want to. To be honest, I never really, truly did want to be with him. Brian thinks it’s silly, but I swear I sensed Ayn’s existence before Brian told me.”

Brian rolls his eyes again. He returns to the room and hears a giant, collective sigh of relief. Jennifer is gazing down at Ayn in her arms, but when Brian walks over, she looks up and smiles at him. It’s a genuine smile.

“You obviously did a good job,” she says. “It must’ve been hard.”

“Sometimes,” Brian says with a shrug. “But I had Justin with me. He was by my side as much as I could handle having anyone by my side. He was essential to my sanity. Would Ayn and I have been okay without him? I don’t know. Probably. But there would’ve been a terrible hole in our lives if Justin had stayed with Ethan that nothing and no one could’ve filled. Ayn and I need Justin, and Justin needs you. He’s already lost one parent. I know what it feels like to not have parents. I never really did. But Justin has always had you. Don’t abandon him now just because you don’t like me.”

“I don’t not like you,” she says. “I . . . I just guess I hadn’t pictured this . . . this situation for my son, for his future.”

“That totally doesn’t matter,” Justin says. “It’s completely moot. I’m not giving up my art. I haven’t _lost_ anything, I’ve _gained_ something in addition to what I already had. I have a wonderful . . .”

“. . . I think you mean ‘tolerable,’” Deb says, but it’s with a wink and smile in Brian’s direction.

“. . . partner and a beautiful daughter. I’d like to add a ‘proud grandma’ to the list.”

Jennifer kisses Ayn’s head and takes a deep breath. “You can,” she says. “You _and_ Brian have my blessing.

Justin goes to give her a hug, but Ayn squawks angrily. Everyone laughs.

“Can we eat now?” Ted says. “I starving!”

“You can eat now,” Jennifer says. “You, too, Brian. You need all the calories you can get to keep up with your daughter. If she’s anything like Justin, she’ll be a handful.”

Brian smiles. He doesn’t really want to. He’s still a bit angry, but for Justin’s sake she goes to Jennifer and kisses her cheek.

“Congratulations, Grannie,” he says.

Jennifer pretends to be appalled. “I am _not_ going to be ‘Grannie.’ I’m going to be ‘Nana.’”

She gives Ayn another lingering kiss on the top of her head.

“Ah, that lovely baby smell,” she sighs. “Someone should bottle it. They’d make a mint.”

Ayn just looks at her, but then, to Brian’s relief, she reaches up and places her hand on Jennifer’s chin. It’s a sweet, tender moment . . .

. . . and then Ayn opens her little mouth and lets out an ear-piercing shriek. Jennifer laughs and hands her to Justin.

“Ah,” she says, smiling. “The beauty of being a grandmother. I get to have her when she’s sweet and good and then hand her back to you when she turns into a terror. You know? I could really get to like this arrangement.”

Suddenly, Deb adds to the God forsaken noise.

“Michael Novotny! You get your buns over here right now! You are going to hold this baby, and you’re going to _like_ it.”

“Gheesh,” Michael says. “You make it sound like she’s a Brussel sprout or something.”

Brian can tell he’s as pissed as Jennifer that Brian hadn’t told him he was pregnant. He goes over to Michael and throws his arm over his shoulders.

“Mikey,” he says. “You would’ve hated it. There was lots of bitching and moaning and complaining about hemorrhoids and swollen feet.”

Mikey looks up at him. He’s only half mollified.

“Look,” Brian says. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I had a lot on my plate and the fewer people who knew, the easier it was going to be on me. I know you’d want to help, but you wouldn’t have known how to and you would’ve stepped all over Justin’s toes even if you didn’t mean to.”

Mikey smiles a wobbly smile.

“Can I babysit her or something?” he asks. “I think I could handle that.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Mikey,” Brian says. “Haven’t I been telling you that for years?” He kisses the top of Michael’s head and then shoves him in the direction of a still-screaming Ayn. “Now go over there and introduce yourself.”

Brian eventually decides to take pity on everyone – including himself – and goes over to retrieve Ayn from Michael, who looks like he already regretted offering to babysit. Ayn settles down the second she’s in Brian’s arms. He looks up at Jennifer ready for another round of shit, but she merely smiles at him.

Now that Ayn is calm, everyone comes up to hold her or just look at her. Lindsay unsurprisingly gets all moist, but everyone is just happy and made a lot of annoying baby sounds. Mel is the last one to take her turn.

“Now who’s the lesbian?” Mel says looking up from Ayn and into Brian’s eyes.

“I’ve still got a cock,” he drawls. “For verification, feel free to ask Justin. He’s been servicing it regularly.”

Mel rolls her eyes but then brushes her finger against Ayn’s cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” she says. “Take good care of her.”

Brian’s immediate knee-jerk reaction is to ask her why the hell she might think he wouldn’t, but just as quickly he realizes it just isn’t worth it. Instead he just looks at her. They have a brief staring contest, and then Mel smiles.

“Good job, asshole,” she says and walks away, clearly pleased she’d had the last word.

_The Present . . ._

Justin’s at school, and Brian is alone with Ayn when there’s a knock on the door. She’d just had lunch, and he’s burping her, a towel draped over his shoulder to soak up the gobbledygook. He walks over to the door and opens it.

It’s Ethan.

Brian immediately shields Ayn’s head and steps back to slam the door shut, his heart pounding. It’s pure instinct. Somewhere in the back of his animal brain he’d associated Ethan with danger. He has to protect his daughter . . .

. . . But then the rest of his brain kicks in, and he keeps the door open.

“What do you want?” he snaps.

Ethan swallows, but he doesn’t look away from Brian’s face.

“I . . . I just want . . . can I come in?”

Brian frowns. He’s suspicious, but he’s also curious. He steps aside, and Ethan walks shakily through the door. He looks around for a moment while Brian goes to the kitchen and gets them both bottles of water.

“This is . . . wow,” he says. “You guys have a really nice place.”

“Thanks,” Brian says and points down the hallway toward the living room. Once there, Brian gives Ethan his water, and they sit down in armchairs facing each other. Brian’s still holding Ayn and rubbing her little back.

“Is that your baby?” Ethan asks.

Brian rolls his eyes. “No, it’s the baby from down the street. Of course, this is my baby."

“It’s really small.”

“She was just born. Newborns are small.”

“But . . . but she’s okay, right?”

Brian takes a swig from his bottle and regards Ethan for a moment. He’s pale and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks tortured.

“She’s fine,” he says.

Ethan breathes what is clearly a sigh of huge relief.

“I’m so glad,” he says.

“Look,” Brian says. “I don’t have all afternoon. I want to put her down for nap and try to have one myself. So out with it.”

Ethan takes a deep, _deep_ breath.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for not telling the police about what happened. I owe you my life.”

Brian rolls his eyes again. “Please. It’s not like you would’ve gotten the death penalty. You don’t owe me your life, but you _do_ owe me something else.”

“I know I do,” he says. “I owe the biggest apology . . .”

Brian covers Ayn’s hears. “Sorry’s bullshit,” he says. “And I don’t want the word to become part of Ayn's vocabulary. That’s not what I meant.”

Ethan looks at him questioningly.

“If it’s money, I . . .”

“Oh for fuck sake. You don’t think I have money? I’m more financially comfortable than you will probably ever be. No, I don’t want an apology and I sure as hell don’t want money.”

Ethan frowns. He’s clearly confused.

“Then what do you want?” he asks.

“I want you to play your fucking fiddle.”

Now he’s even more confused.

“Look,” Brian says. “You’re talented. There aren’t a lot of talented people out there – most people are fucking mediocre as shit. What I want from you is for you to go out there and be a big, fat fucking success.”

Ethan bites lip. He’s clearly struggling with some kind of overwhelming emotion.

“I didn’t die,” Brian continues. “Ayn didn’t die. Neither of us sustained any kind of permanent injury. We’re fine. It’d be a fucking waste to put you away for twenty years or some shit like that, and I hate waste. So go back to school or whatever it is you want to do and play your fiddle to your heart’s content. It was a fucking accident.”

“But . . . but it _wasn’t_ ,” Ethan says. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have fallen.”

“If it wasn’t for me being a dick, you wouldn’t have been sufficiently incensed to push me. Look, Ian. Shit happens. My shit turned out pretty damn well. I’ve got Ayn; I’ve got Justin. What more could I want? I’m not out for some kind of revenge. Now, if you’d hurt Ayn, I would’ve hunted you down to the last corner of the earth, dismembered you with my teeth and eaten your guts raw.”

Ethan shudders.

“ . . . but Ayn’s not hurt, so I don’t really give a shit. Now fuck off. I’m tired. But remember what I said. You owe me your success.”

They both stand up. Ethan turns around and is about to leave, but then he stops and turns back to Brian.

“Can . . . can I see her?”

Brian’s eyes narrow, but he catches himself. Why not? He goes over to Ethan and positions Ayn in his arms so that Ethan can see her face.

“She looks just like you,” Ethan says.

“Don’t worry,” Brian drawls. “I can assure you Justin was involved.”

“I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry I was responsible for making him leave you while you were pregnant.”

Brian’s annoyed. He really is tired.

“What did I just say about ‘sorry’?” he says. “And you didn’t _make_ Justin do anything. Justin is more than capable of making his own choices. The last thing that’s ever going to happen is that someone coerces that stubborn twat into doing something he doesn’t want to do.”

Ethan smiles. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Brian.”

He holds out his hand. Brian pauses for only a second, but then he shakes it.

“Now bug off and go fiddle with your fiddle," he says.

Ethan’s only been gone for a few minutes when Brian hears a commotion in the entry room. Justin and Daphne. Jesus Christ, what a racket. Brian goes to greet them.

“I swear to God, if you two get her going . . .”

“Shut up, Brian, and give me my daughter,” Justin says. He takes her, and she only squawks for a second before snuggling up against her other dad’s chest. Justin grins at him.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” he asks.

Brian pauses before he answers. Should he mention Ethan’s visit? For some reason he doesn’t fully understand, he decides not to. At the end of the day, what happened on that flight of stairs is nobody’s business except his and Ethan’s.

“Nope,” he replies. “Nothing at all.”

They fuck more roughly that night than they have since Brian had Ayn, and it goes just fine. No jabbing pain. Justin is wild for it, urging Brian on in language not fit for polite society. Brian’s out of practice and comes too soon – well, maybe “practice” isn’t the issue. They’re fucking raw these days and just that teeny, tiny increase in sensation is sometimes more than he’s prepared for. Justin loves it too, all that come and lube everywhere. It’s so deliciously dirty. But Brian, himself, won’t let Justin’s cock anywhere near his ass without the protection of two (yes, that’s right _two_ ) industrial strength condoms. Justin’s disappointed and once made the mistake of voicing his displeasure, but he comes anyway. He could probably come wearing ten condoms. His appetite for fucking Brian is insatiable. Sometimes Brian wonders if it has something to do with the fact he can bear children . . . is there some primal instinct that makes sure that Justin comes inside him no matter what? Maybe the cosmos wants more Taylor-Kinney offspring.

Well, too fucking bad. If that’s the case, then the cosmos is shit out of luck.

After they’ve showered and changed the sheets, Justin gets Ayn and places her between them. When they both fall asleep, Brian gets that horrible gooey feeling again. He glares up at the ceiling, trying hard to access his trustworthy inner asshole and failing utterly. He’s going to have to work on it. Apparently, like his ab muscles, his cynical attitude needs constant exercise. Ayn is making it hard to do both. Thank God for Ted.

“Shut up, Brian,” Justin mumbles. “You’re going to wake the baby with all your brooding. Go to sleep.”

Brian rolls over onto his side and they look at each other over their sleeping daughter. “Perfect” is a word that makes Brian nervous because, after all, how long can “perfect” last? But for the moment it’s okay. He can think his life is perfect for just one, safe fleeting moment because that’s what it is. Perfect.

Justin rolls his eyes as though he’d been able to read Brian’s thoughts – perhaps he actually had.

“Love you, too,” he says. “Now go to sleep.”

THE END


End file.
